The First Appearance Deceives Many
by SomewhereApart
Summary: Cooper's parents come to Los Angeles to meet their grandson. Things don't exactly go as planned. Set AFTER season 5.
1. Chapter 1

"Don't forget my parents are coming in this afternoon," Cooper reminds her over breakfast for what seems like the zillionth time. Like she's going to forget that they're about to have houseguests, and house guests that aren't that fond of her on top of that.

"I know," she tells him, pouring herself a glass of juice, and one for Mason, then putting the pitcher back into her brand new fridge. Her brand new fridge, in her brand new kitchen, in her newly remodeled home. It makes her smile just to think of it - when it isn't causing headaches, that is.

"So you need to pick up Mason from school." Another unnecessary reminder.

"I _know_," she insists, bringing the glasses to the table and setting one next to Mason's cereal bowl, the other next to her carton of yogurt.

"I don't want orange juice," Mason tells her sourly, and Charlotte fights the urge to sigh. For good measure he adds, "And it's not school, it's summer school, and it's stupid, and I don't want to go."

He's been like this for two weeks - ever since they moved in. The loft hadn't been big enough for three, and Charlotte hadn't wanted to move into Mason and Erica's place. There'd been a brief discussion of it, but she'd known that eventually the grief-stricken clinging would morph into a you're-not-my-mom phase, and she didn't think having her move into Erica's house, throw out all her furniture, and sleep in her bedroom every night would help with that. They'd decided on a fresh start - a new place, for the three of them. For this new little family that they were.

They'd spent a few weeks going through everything in the house Mason grew up in, letting him choose the things that meant the most to him, things he wanted to keep. The rest had gone into storage - she's not heartless enough to throw it all out just yet. And she'd kept a few things herself. Erica's bedroom set was in the guest bedroom now - refinished, and with brand new bedding, but still there in case Mason wanted to feel close to her. They'd slip-covered the sofa from Mason's living room and put it in the television room in the new house. Little things, here and there, to blend their lives together as much as possible.

Charlotte's not sure it helped.

Mason likes the pool, and he likes living close enough that he and his dad can take a long bike ride to the beach, but he doesn't like living in a new home. Not really. And he's doing a bang-up job of making it clear he doesn't care for this new life. He's sullen, and bratty, and protests every damned thing she puts in front of him.

Including juice, apparently.

"Well, orange is the only juice we have right now, so it'll have to do," she tells him plainly. "And you have to go, because we have to work. But I'll be there at two to pick you up, and then you don't have to go back until Wednesday."

Mason scowls and jams his spoon into his cereal, metal clinking hard against ceramic as it hits the bottom of the bowl. He doesn't eat, just swirls the spoon through a sea of Froot Loops that are rapidly coloring the milk.

"Are you excited to meet your grandparents?" Cooper asks him, and Charlotte wishes he wouldn't. The kid's just going to break his heart.

Sure enough, he looks up from his cereal and answers, "No," and Cooper's smile falters.

"Why not?" he asks his son, carefully.

Mason stirs his cereal again, then startles Charlotte by looking at her in a way he hasn't in weeks. Tentative, and almost a little pleading. "Are they going to sleep in my mom's room?"

"It's the guest room," she corrects gently, before adding, "And yes, they are."

"I don't want them to. It's her room. It's got her stuff in it; I don't want them in there."

"Mason…" Cooper begins, but Charlotte holds up a hand to wave him off.

She turns to face Mason full on, and smiles softly at him. "We talked about this. Remember, when I asked if you wanted to keep your mom's furniture for the guest room? We talked about how sometimes you'd have to share that room with other people."

"I changed my mind. I don't want to." He scoops up a spoonful of cereal, then tips it and lets it splatter back into the bowl. She's pretty sure he hasn't taken a decent spoonful since she's been in the room, and the loops are all going soggy.

"Mason, please don't play with your food," she tells him, and whatever momentary mood of forgiveness he'd been in is broken.

He glares at her, drops his spoon into the bowl with a clatter, and says, "You're not my mom. You don't get to tell me what to do."

Cooper straightens in his chair and takes a breath to speak, but Charlotte beats him to it.

"I know I'm not your mom," she tells him with a calmness that belies her rapidly waning patience. "But you live in my house, I'm married to your dad, and I'm responsible for you, so I do get to 'tell you what to do,' and I don't appreciate the sass."

"Well, I don't appreciate your—"

"Mason," Cooper cuts in, firmly, stopping the boy mid-sentence. "Enough. You do have to listen to Charlotte, your grandparents are sleeping in the guest room, and we have fifteen minutes before we have to leave for school, so start eating." After a second, he adds, "Please."

"I'm not hungry," he sulks, and Charlotte's quickly losing the battle to irritation. She stands, mutters "Fine," and grabs the bowl from in front of him, and her half-eaten yogurt and rounds the kitchen island for the sink.

"Hey!" he protests. "That's mine!"

"You're not hungry," she reminds, tossing the bowl in the sink with a clatter and turning the tap on until the milk goes watery and runs over the bowl, cereal loops spilling into the sink.

"Charlotte…" It's Cooper - he's clearly not impressed with her parenting style at the moment, but she doesn't care. She can be sympathetic to a point, but she's done for the morning. She has exactly five minutes before she has to be out the door, and she's not going to spend them having an argument about Froot Loops.

"But if I don't eat, I'll be hungry before lunch!"

"You _weren't_ eating," she points out. "You were sulking, and griping, and generally being a sourpuss. Now, if you want to sit there and eat, and maybe adjust your attitude, I'll pour you another bowl that hasn't turned into rainbow-colored mush."

"Charlotte," Cooper says again, and when she looks to him, he shakes his head slightly, and that pisses her off more than all of Mason's bellyaching combined. How he picks his moments to undermine her, she'll never know, but if he could just stand by her on this one, maybe they'd actually accomplish breakfast.

"You gonna tell me I'm wrong?" she challenges him, and Cooper opens his mouth, shuts it again, opens it, then sighs. He may try to call her off a point now and then, but he's reluctant to actually argue in front of Mason, and she has no problem using that to her advantage right now.

Mason is watching them intently, but looking a little uneasy.

The silence stretches for nearly a full minute, a three-way stalemate that Mason finally breaks, deflating in his seat and asking quietly, "Can I have some cereal, please?"

"Yes, you may,' Charlotte answers gamely, reaching for a clean bowl. "More Froot Loops?"

"Um-" he starts to protest, then seems to change his mind, and nods, saying flatly, "Yeah, sure, that's fine."

Charlotte stops with one hand on the Froot Loops box. "Mason, if you want somethin' else, that's fine, but now's the time to speak up."

"Can I have Cheerios?"

"Regular or honey nut?"

"Honey nut," he tells her, his tone and expression basically amounting to "Duh."

She can't help smirking a little as she reaches for the box. Apparently the very idea that he'd want the cereal not coated in sugar is just plain silly. She fills his bowl, detours to the fridge for some milk, and then sets it in front of him. He mumbles a quiet, "Thanks, Charlotte," and since she knows he's acting out of pain and frustration, she lets the whole incident go and gives his shoulder a light squeeze.

"No problem. Now…" She glances at her watch, and confirms, "I have to go to work. So I will see you," she runs her hand over Mason's hair, "At two o'clock, and you," she glances at Cooper, "At the practice."

"Don't forget we're having dinner at-"

"Six o'clock, with your parents, yes, I know. It's all in my calendar; I will be there." She grabs her purse, and swings it onto her shoulder, adding, "You can stop reminding me."

If she lets him pull her into a conversation about this, she'll get stuck here and miss her morning meeting, so she heads for the door without waiting for his answer, calling behind her, "Love you both!"

They're hollering the same after her as she crosses the foyer, and before long, she's out the door and on the way to work.


	2. Chapter 2

Cooper doesn't see Charlotte for most of the day, and when he does, his "happy to see her" is short-lived. She's got that look on her face - the one that says she's about to tell him something he doesn't want to hear.

"Hi," she starts in, and the tone just confirms it.

"Charlotte," he groans, because he knows where this is going. "Come on, you promised you'd make it to dinner."

She bristles immediately, and he thinks maybe it was unwise to assume.

Sure enough, she tells him, "And I will," biting off each word sharply, and Cooper's kicking himself. "But somethin' came up at the hospital - I just got called back. I'm pretty sure this is going to tie up the rest of my afternoon, so…"

"So you can't pick up Mason," he deduces, and he thinks that's really not much better than missing dinner. It's still going to throw off his whole day.

"Exactly," she confirms. "I know it's going to make you late to meet your parents, but I have to deal with this now, before it gets worse. And by the time you get to Mason's school and back, you'll be late by, what? Half an hour? Forty-five minutes? They'll barely have had time to get their bags and make it to the curbside pick-up."

Cooper sighs heavily, and nods, reaching for his phone. "Fine. Go," he mutters, pulling up his Favorite contacts and pressing _Mom_.

"I will make it up to you," she promises, a little suggestively, and it's enough to make Cooper crack a smile.

"Oh, yeah?" he teases back, as he listens to the phone ring once, twice, three times. They're in the air; he has a few more rings before the voicemail picks up.

"Mmhmm," she murmurs, stepping in close and lowering her voice to tell him, "Anything you want."

And then she's off, and he's left wondering how he can make good on that promise.

**.:.**

An hour later, that mild excitement has been completely dashed. He and Mason are in the car, and traffic is horrendous. There's an accident somewhere ahead of them, and the bumper-to-bumper traffic is bleeding off the freeway, clogging up the side streets, and making everything a nightmare.

"I'm hungry," Mason announces from the back seat. "Can we stop for burgers?"

"Stop?" Cooper mutters. "We're not even moving, how can we stop?"

"Are we going to be late?"

"We were already late," he sighs, propping his elbow against the window and resting his head on his fist. "Now we're going to be _really, really_ late." He glances at Mason in the rearview, and tells him, "Check my bag - I think there's a granola bar in the inside pocket."

Mason makes a face, but reaches for the bag on the seat next to him anyway. Cooper watches him dig through it - it's not like he has to pay attention to the cars not moving in front of him. "It's not chocolate, is it?" he asks, and Cooper shakes his head.

"Peanut butter, I think," he tells him, and when Mason finally fishes it out, he's proven right. Peanut butter it is. "There's water under the seat," he reminds and Mason tells him he still has some in his bottle. He rifles through his backpack to find it, and Cooper turns his attention back to the road.

It's not loosening up - not as far as he can see, anyway - and at this rate, he's going to be at least an hour and a half late to meet his parents — maybe more. He can't just let them sit there forever, and they can't cab it on their own because the house will be empty, and they don't have a hidden key anyway… He needs to come up with a solution.

Thankfully, one of their spare keys is with someone his parents will have no problem spending time with.

He reaches for his BlueTooth, and then, just to be on the safe side, calls Charlotte first. He knows the fate of the call as soon as she picks up — she sounds frazzled, like she's in the middle of something, and when he tells her they're stuck in traffic and asks if there's any way she can leave and pick up his parents, she tells him she's swamped, and stuck, and he's not surprised. He tells her it's fine — but it's not, exactly — and that he'll just ask Violet. He asks if she'll make it to dinner, and she says she'll try - which is a step down from her reassurances earlier, and he's starting to feel like nothing about this day is going to go according to plan.

She apologizes again, but she's distracted, and he can't tell if she really means it, or if she's grateful for a little more time before she has to face the firing squad that is his parents.

The call to Violet takes even less time than the one to Charlotte — she's more than happy to pick up his parents and deliver them to the new house, and she'll even call them to let them know about the change, so he can focus on weaving out of this traffic and heading in the direction of home.

He's off the phone less than five minutes before Mason speaks up from the back seat. "Dad…?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Did Charlotte not pick me up because I fought with her this morning?"

It's an unexpected question, and Cooper's thrown for a moment, but he knows if he bungles this, Mason will question his honesty, so he tries to find his words quickly. "No. No, of course not," he tells him. "She just got stuck at work. She's in charge, so when things go wrong, she has to fix them, and sometimes that means she has to work when she'd rather be doing other things - like picking you up."

"So she's not mad at me?"

"Nah. But…" He sighs again, shifts a little in his seat. "What happened this morning... I know you're having a hard time right now, with the new house, and living with me and Charlotte, and all that - and we understand that, we do - but you need to try to rein it in a little bit, okay? We're all still adjusting, remember?"

Mason's looking down at his lap, but he nods. He chews a bite of granola slowly, then rips Cooper's heart out by quietly admitting, "I just miss my mom."

"I know," Cooper sympathizes, wishing there was more he could do. Wishing there was some way he could take all the pain his kid is in and pile it all on himself. Mason doesn't deserve to go through this - not this young. "I get that."

"No, you don't," Mason mutters, and Cooper has to give him that. He can't get it - not really. Not with both of his parents alive and well, and waiting for them at the airport. That was a stupid thing to say.

"You're right. I don't," he concedes, but he's careful to add, "But Charlotte does." He knows Charlotte has talked to Mason about her dad - he overheard them, once, when they were still living in the loft, and Erica's death was still fresh. They'd spent a quiet hour talking about losing a parent, and how much it hurts, even when you're grown, and how she understood how sad he was, and how mad, and how unfair it all felt. Cooper had been careful not to disturb them. "She may not have been a kid, like you are, but she understands, right?"

Mason nods again, with a little less conviction than last time.

"And because she understands, she doesn't stay mad when you have a disagreement, but I know it still hurts her feelings a little bit when you say things like that you don't have to listen because she's not your mom, or that the way she does things is wrong and you don't like it, or... stuff like that. She loves you a lot, and she's doing her best. So we need to do our best too, okay?"

Another nod, and a quiet "fine," is all he gets.

He's not sure he's really made anything better, but Mason lifts his gaze from his lap and looks out the window, taking another bite of his granola bar.

Cooper's at a loss for anything else to say, so they ride the rest of the way home in silence.

**.:.**

It's hard to say whether it's the distraction of new people, the quiet time in the car, or the half dozen presents with his name on them sitting on the living room coffee table that are responsible for perking Mason up, but by the time he's been introduced to his grandparents and tasked with showing them around the house, he's more like his old self.

He even has nice things to say about Charlotte when he shows off his room, which makes Cooper smile. That had been their little project - she'd let Mason tell her what he wanted, and they'd come up with a Pokémon theme. His bed is painted like a Poké ball, and she'd had these really awesome custom decals made for the walls. He has a Poké ball bean bag chair, and a brand new desk. There's even some glow in the dark stuff going on. He's pretty sure if he was Mason's age, he'd want to spend all his time in there, too. Hell, he's a grown man and he still sort of does.

"It's super cool," Mason tells his grandparents, pointing at the decals. "See, that's Scraggy, and that's Seadra, and that's..."

His parents are listening gamely, but Cooper hangs back a few feet, leaning against the wall in the hallway and saying to Violet, "Thanks for picking them up."

"Oh, no problem," she assures. "You know I love your parents. It gave us a chance to catch up." After a second, she adds, "Looks like Mason's doing well."

"Yeah. We had a rough morning, though. Not awful, but... bumpy," he tells her. "This is actually the best he's been in a while."

"It takes time," she reminds him, and he knows that, so he nods.

"I know. And so does Charlotte. We're trying to be patient, but... I don't know. I never know how much to push him. Charlotte's harder on him, but he pushes back against her more, and she's, y'know, Charlotte." Violet quirks a brow in acknowledgement. "He leaned into her so much, until we moved. Now, I think he blames her for all the changes."

"He'll get over it," Violet assures. "He just needs-"

"Time, yeah, I know." He smiles at her, but it's half-hearted.

Violet switches the topic, just slightly, lowering her voice to ask, "Think Charlotte will make it to dinner?"

Cooper sighs heavily, and admits, "No. But she could surprise me."

"I'm sure she's not doing this on purpose."

He scrubs his hands over his face and agrees with her - sort of. "I know. At least, I think I know. She wants my parents to change their opinion of her just as much as I do, so I don't think she'd bail on purpose. It wouldn't exactly get the weekend off to a good start."

"I'm sure she'll make it," Violet placates, and he knows she's only saying it to make him feel better, but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she's right.


	3. Chapter 3

She isn't.

Six o'clock rolls around, and Charlotte is still tied up, and as they settle into dinner at the restaurant, Cooper's mother says, "It's a shame Charlotte couldn't get make it to dinner," in a way that makes it very clear it's not a shame at all. It's exactly what she was expecting. She continues with, "But if that means we get to have Violet with us for a little while longer, then all the better, right?"

Violet smiles awkwardly. "I'm happy to fill the void." She turns her attention to Mason and switches the topic, asking him if he knows what he wants, and peeking at the menu with him.

Cooper's grateful for the change of topic - or at least he would be, if his mother could ever let a topic die.

But she can't, and she keeps going with, "It must be hard working such unpredictable hours. I hope it's not too hard on Mason - kids need stability, you know, Cooper."

"Yeah, Mom, I know," he answers, trying not to let his irritation show. "But this is rare - Charlotte's usually pretty good about keeping her schedule. And Mason's just fine."

In fact, Mason pipes up with, "I'm sitting right here," and Cooper's torn between laughing at him and telling him to be polite.

He compromises with, "Yes, you are. I'm sorry we were talking around you-" He nods toward the menu, and says, "You looked busy."

He shrugs, announcing, "I'm getting a burger and fries."

"Sounds good."

Mason frowns, then looks at his grandmother and adds, "And she works late a lot, but it's okay. I can see her in the afternoon if I want, and she doesn't work weekends anymore unless there's an emergency."

"Late nights and weekends?" his mother questions, looking disapprovingly to Cooper. "That doesn't sound-"

"Mom," Cooper cuts her off. "Not at dinner."

"I'm only saying..." his mother says, lifting her hands innocently.

His father has been studying the menu intently, and sets it aside with a mild, "I think I'll have the steak. Violet?"

It's another welcome attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere, and Cooper wonders if it's possible his dad has softened a little toward Charlotte, or if he just wants to keep the peace in public.

Either way, Cooper thinks this may end up being a long night.

**.:.**

She's late.

She's incredibly late.

And she's pissed.

She promised - she _promised_ him she'd make it in time for dinner, and it's already an hour after their reservation and she's just now headed home. When she called to tell him she was almost on her way out, Cooper had told her that they'd just asked for the check and not to bother with dinner. To just meet them at home.

He was disappointed, and irritated with her, and she didn't even have to ask to find all that out. His voice was soaked in it.

This weekend _mattered_ to him, it was important. It was huge, and she'd gone and botched it already less than a day in.

So to say she's distracted on the drive home is an understatement, but that doesn't mean she's not still a good driver. She likes to think she's an excellent driver, aside from her mild lead foot, but today's she's impatient. And she's hit every red light since she left work.

She's hit the longest stretch of road between lights, and is finally hitting a good pace, praying for the red light ahead of her to turn green. And lucky her, it does - she doesn't even have to slow down, just breezes into the intersection and -

The hard jerk of her car, and crunch of metal on metal startles her back to attention, and adrenaline hits her so hard she's not sure she'd be able to tell you exactly what happened next.

But what happens is this: in the span of less than a minute some jerk runs the red and careens into her front passenger side, spinning her car toward the lane to her left. As her airbags inflate with a loud bang, there's a squeal of brakes from the car she's just been shoved in front of, but no joy - they come to a stop firmly in her rear driver's side wheel, punching her car to a full 90 degree turn from the way she'd been headed to start with.

An oncoming car swerves to avoid her, and then finally everything is still.


	4. Chapter 4

She's disoriented, a little dizzy, and her shoulder hurts like a bitch. Charlotte blinks hard, and looks around slowly, her vision swimming for a minute as she scans the car. Her airbag is hanging loose in front of her, and she can hear a voice to her left saying something she can't quite make out.

And then her door swings open, and the side airbag gets pushed out of the way, and there's a stranger looking in on her, his face all sorts of concerned. "Are you okay?," he asks, panicked.

Charlotte blinks again, tries to take stock of herself and get her tongue working again. She's almost definitely concussed, and she's pretty sure her shoulder is out of its socket, but she doesn't think she's bleeding or broken anywhere. "Yeah," she manages. "Yeah, I'm... Yeah."

A thought comes to her: as if she wasn't late enough already...

"Okay, good," the guy says to her. "Don't move, okay? I called 911, so don't move until they get here and check you out."

She wants to tell him she's a doctor, she knows what the hell she's doing, but she's got a slow-growing urge to toss her cookies, so she keeps her mouth shut and squeezes her eyes closed for a second. Then she remembers she's concussed, and peels them back open, just to be on the safe side.

"I need my phone," she tells the stranger.

"I already called-"

"No, I need to call my - I need my phone." She can't call Cooper, she realizes. Not with his parents there, and not with Mason home. Her husband has no poker face, and her stepson will panic. Amelia, she thinks. She'll call Amelia. She's closest, and she can keep a secret.

She's about to ask for her phone again when she hears her passenger door pop open, and the guy is rifling through the spilled contents of her purse on the passenger side floorboard. She hadn't even realized he'd moved. He finds her iPhone, and hands it to her.

Charlotte's fingers are shaky, and it takes her three tries to enter her passcode correctly. She fumbles through her contacts and finds the number she's looking for. Her nausea swells for a brief moment, and she swallows hard and forces her eyes straight ahead - until she hears the stranger's voice again, sharp and irritated. "Get your sorry ass back in that car!" Charlotte's lip curves slightly, and she hears him say something about not leaving until the cops show up and realizes he's talking to the asshole that hit her in the first place. She's not sure who this guy is, but she likes him.

Whoever hit her must not put up much of a fight, because her stranger is poking his head back into her car just as Amelia answers the phone.

"Hey, what's up?" she greets.

"I need you to come get me," Charlotte tells her, watching as the stranger starts carefully tucking her things back into her purse. Her wallet, her birth control, a tiny bottle of perfume...

She must sound pretty bad, because Amelia's tone has changed drastically when she answers with, "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Car accident," Charlotte answers. "I'm okay. I'll be, um... I'm fine. I just... I can't call Cooper. His parents are here and Mason will freak, and... I just need you to come, and..."

"Okay, where are you?"

"I'm at, uh..." she realizes suddenly that she doesn't know. She should know, she drives through this intersection every day, but her car is angled just right so that she can't see the street sign, and she can't remember the name. So she looks to the man setting her purse snugly back into place on the passenger seat, and asks, "Where are we?"

He smiles sympathetically and reaches for her phone, and Charlotte hands it over without hesitation. He gives Amelia their cross streets, and she must be asking him something because he hesitates, looks at her again, and then says, "She says she's okay. A little disoriented but she got hit and then hit again, so- No, I'm the one who hit her the second time." Charlotte takes another sideways look at him, then - she supposes it should have occurred to her that's who he was, but she's not exactly at her best right now. There's a bruise beginning to bloom on his forehead, and he looks rattled. He's saying something about how they're on their way, he already called, and it's like his lips to God's ears - a siren's wail is quiet in the distance, growing louder by the second.

He hangs up, and hands her phone back to her. Charlotte grips it loosely in her lap, trying to focus on something other than the pain throbbing in her shoulder. She looks at the guy helping her and asks, "You alright?"

"Me?" he questions. "Yeah, I'm okay. I hit the brakes when you spun into my lane, but I was too close to stop fully in time. Dented the side of your car pretty good," he adds with a hint of apology.

"Totaled?"

"With the damage to the front, definitely. Sorry."

Great. Looks like she's in the market for a new car.

The sirens are loud now, painfully so, and within minutes there's an EMT at her door. She's not sure if she's happy to see a familiar face or not, but there he is: Scott. Hot Scott, with his smile and his eyes and his - if he calls Violet on her, she's screwed.

He looks startled to see her, but only for a second. "How're you doing, Dr. King?" he asks her.

She decides to go with glad to see him, if only because she's finally got someone she can talk to on her own level. "I think I'm concussed, and my shoulder's out... But I'm okay."

He looks her over, reaches gingerly across and releases her seatbelt. As he examines her shoulder carefully, he starts in with the standard how-messed-up-is-your-head questions. "What's your name - first, middle and last?"

"Charlotte Louise King," she answers easily.

"Birthday?"

"July 8th. Year's none of your damned business."

Scott cracks a smile. "Oh yeah, you'll be fine. What's your husband's birthday?"

"September..." she begins, but there's a hole where the date should be. She frowns, repeats, "September, um... I don't..."

"It's okay," he assures, giving her another question: "Where do you live?"

"Santa Monica."

"Address, please?"

"For God's sake, you already know I'm concussed. Stop askin' stupid questions."

Scott nods gamely, and asks, "Are you nauseous?"

"Mmhmm," she answers, shutting her eyes for a second.

"Eyes open, Dr. King," he reminds and she blinks them back open and looks at him. "Blurred vision?"

"It was swimmin' for a minute there, but it's settled down."

"Pain anywhere else?"

"I'm alright, Scott. I can feel everything, nothin' feels broken, I just... I need my shoulder popped back in, and I'll, um... I'll be okay."

"We'll give you a better look back at the hospital," he assures, popping his head out and asking for the stretcher board.

"I do not need the board."

"You have a head injury, you've been knocked around-"

"I'm not bein' carried into my own hospital on a damned board. My neck's not broken; I don't need it."

She's leveling him with her best Chief of Staff glare - or at least trying to, but the pain really is distracting. It's certainly not the worst she's been in, but it's bad.

He gives her his best stubborn face right back, and tells her, "Dr. King, I'm not letting you out of this car without a neck brace, at the very least."

"I don't-"

"You're injured, and I'm not letting you hurt yourself even more because you think you don't need it." He tries working his charm - smiling at her and teasing, "I know how many people would be lined up to try to kick my ass if I did. So. Board or brace?"

Smile or not, she can tell he's not going to give on this, and the longer she spends arguing, the longer it'll be before she gets her shoulder set and gets to a place where people will stop pestering her. So she sighs, resigns herself to her fate, and mutters, "Brace."

"Alright then," he tells her with a smile and a nod, clearly pleased she's given up the fight. His satisfaction irritates her.

"Stop smilin'," she mutters. "I can fire you, y'know."

"No, you can't. EMTs don't work for the hospital, remember?" he tells her, still smirking as someone further outside the car hands him the brace. He doesn't give her a chance to sass him back, just urges, "Ease forward - slowly."

He helps her, guiding her gently forward just enough to get the brace situated. Its not much movement, but it's more than she's done since her car settled into place, and the undercurrent of nausea she's been feeling surges slightly. She swallows hard, her breath going shallow, and she tells herself to focus, breathe, concentrate on not losing her lunch.

"You okay?" Scott asks quietly, and she murmurs an affirmative, then mutters, "Can we get me out of this car?"

"Yep."

He takes her phone and pockets it, and then they work together, carefully easing one leg out and then the other. It's not until she moves it that she realizes her right ankle is tender, too. They have to work around her dislocated arm, but after a minute, they get her to her feet - and she promptly loses them, her knees buckling, head swimming, pain radiating from her ankle when she puts her weight on it. Scott has a strong arm around her, and it keeps her upright, but the movement proves too much for her. She's swamped with nausea, and tips forward slightly, emptying the contents of her stomach in a violent heave that burns her throat and makes her head throb even harder.

She manages not to get too much of it on herself, but can't say the same for Scott. To his credit, he says nothing about it, just holds her up and angles her away enough that if she heaves again, it will miss both of them. After a few seconds of calm, she lifts her eyes to his and tells him she's good now, but when he motions for the gurney to be brought closer, she protests again.

"I can walk to the ambulance," she rasps, and Scott gives her a look.

"Dr. King, you're not exactly standing on your own steam," he points out, and she frowns and tries to steady herself on her feet. She winces at the pain in her ankle, but shifts into it anyway. It holds, sore as it is, and she looks pointedly at him. Scott loosens his grip on her and invites her to take another step, and she tries, but she finds herself reaching for him with her good arm when her knees still go to jelly. "Your ankle isn't what worries me," he tells her, motioning again for the gurney. She doesn't argue this time, just eases herself onto it and lets her own EMTs wheel her to an ambulance.

When Scott hops in behind her, she says, "I really am okay, you know," despite feeling increasingly like crap. The adrenaline of the crash is wearing off, the movement has made her shoulder hurt even more, her stomach is still shaky, and now that she's aware of the throb in her ankle, that's bugging her too.

"I don't disagree that you're okay. But you are definitely injured, and this superhero thing you're going for isn't really doing you any favors." She hears her phone ping, and he reaches for his pocket and pulls it out. "Cooper's wondering where you are. Should I answer it for you?"

"No. Give it here." He does, and while she carefully punches her pass code in (gets it in one this time, she notes proudly), he cleans some of her vomit off his pants. "Sorry 'bout that," she mutters, and Scott shrugs.

"It's happened plenty of times before."

"Still sucks," she tells him, because she knows that she certainly doesn't enjoy being vomited on just because it's happened a hundred times before. She pulls up Cooper's text - _Where are you?_ - and tries to reply with "delayed," but her fingers are clumsy and she misses several keys. She erases it and tries again, not faring much better. Reluctantly, she looks to Scott. "These keys are... I can't get this right."

He's smart enough not to say anything, just reaches for the phone while Charlotte mutters something about stupid touch-screens. "What do you want me to say?"

"Delayed."

"Just 'delayed?'"

"Yes."

He frowns, then. "Does he know you just totaled your car?"

"No, and he doesn't need to, yet. It's not a good time."

He's looking at her like she's crazy again. "How are you getting home?"

"I called Dr. Shepherd. She'll drive me home." She glances pointedly at the phone, and repeats, "Delayed." He starts to type, and she scowls, adding, "And show it to me when you're done. Wanna make sure you don't go all... Y'know." It's a lame finish, but she's still having a little trouble getting her words sorted.

He turns the phone toward her, and she squints a little to read it before he presses send. He sets it back on her lap, and tells her, "We should get you to the hospital."

"Not 'til Amelia gets here." She's not in any emergent danger - she knows he'll wait on her if she insists. Charlotte gives in to the urge to close her eyes for just a few minutes, but Scott taps her leg almost immediately.

"Eyes open."

She sighs, and opens her eyes again. Scott has his phone in his hand, and she frowns at it. "Do not call Violet."

"I wasn't," he tells her, thumb moving over his phone again.

Her phone goes off again and she tells him, "Do not text Violet," as she lifts it and focuses on the pass code again.

"I'm not," Scott answers calmly.

"Then what're you doing?"

It's another text from Cooper -_ Of course you are. When will you be home?_

He's irritated, and she supposes she could tell him the truth and change that, but then she thinks of Mason. They've had their moments of friction lately, but she knows the kid well enough to know that finding out his stepmom is in the hospital right after he's lost his real mom will be enough to scare him, and she doesn't want that. She wants to be home, and safe, and able to show him that she's okay - immediately. Before he has a chance to get all worked up about it.

"I'm checking my phone - since you won't let us leave yet, I figured I had time."

"Has anyone checked on the other guys yet?" she asks with just enough disapproval to let him know she's not entirely okay with EMTs browsing their emails while they're out on a call that's going to end up at her hospital.

"There's another ambulance here." She hadn't even noticed. "They're being taken care of. You need me to answer that?" he asks, nodding toward her phone.

"Just say 'not sure,'" she tells him, and he takes the phone from her just as Amelia appears at the ambulance doors.

"Holy crap, Charlotte," she announces in greeting as she hoists herself into the back. "Have you seen your car?"

"Only from the inside. And that's enough."

Amelia winces sympathetically, and looks to Scott. "How's she doing?"

"Dislocated shoulder, concussion, might have sprained her ankle."

Amelia reaches for a pen light to check her pupils, and Charlotte blinks against the light. "How bad is the concussion?"

"She's a little foggy, her recall is slightly impaired, she threw up, and her balance is off."

Amelia turns to look at him. "And you're just hanging out here in the ambulance instead of taking her in for a CT, because...?"

"She wanted to wait for you, and I figured a few more minutes sitting here would be less painful than arguing with her about another thing."

"Someone not being a model patient?" Amelia asks, smirking at Charlotte and putting the pen light back where it belongs.

"Someone's in a lot of pain," Charlotte defends through grit teeth. "And is supposed to be home with her in-laws."

"Call me crazy, but I have a feeling you'd rather be here," Amelia tells her, and if Charlotte was feeling better, she'd smirk at it. She's not _entirely_ wrong about that one. "And I'm here now, so no more waiting. Let's get you to the ER, so we can get you home."

"I need you to get the stuff out of my car, first. Empty my trunk, and — my purse!" She'd forgotten all about it. "It's in the front seat - I need you to get it. Now."

"I will empty your trunk, get your purse - hell, I'll even check your glove compartment and under your seats, but only if you go. Now." She doesn't give Charlotte a chance to agree, just looks to Scott and tells him, "Get her shoulder fixed, and her ankle looked at, and then get her into CT. I'll meet you there when I'm done here."

He agrees, and she gives Charlotte's good hand a quick squeeze, asking, "You sure you don't want me to call Cooper?"

"Positive. It'll only upset Mason, and I'm fine. Really. I'm fine."

"You keep telling yourself that," Amelia mutters, hopping out of the ambulance and heading for Charlotte's car.

"We ready to go, boss?" Scott asks her, and she's pretty sure that _boss_ was meant in a way she ought to resent, but she just can't muster it up right now. So she tells him that yes, she is, and in no time she's on her way back to St. Ambrose.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Amelia gets to St. Ambrose, Charlotte's shoulder is back in its socket, her ankle has been deemed "bruised, but not broken," and she's been changed into clean scrubs (she'd refused a gown, insisting she wasn't being admitted anyway) and sent for her CT scan.

They're just starting the scan when Amelia walks in, and she watches the images of Charlotte's brain come up on the screen with growing relief. Everything looks normal. She has Charlotte sent up to a private room while she waits for the films, and she takes a minute to step into a quiet hallway and make the first move toward getting on Charlotte King's bad side.

It's not that she wants to violate Charlotte's trust — she doesn't — but after what happened with Dell… She's not willing to let her go quite yet, and she doesn't want Cooper to worry.

So she pulls up his number on her cell phone, and waits for him to pick up. It takes him three rings, but he finally answers.

**.:.**

When Cooper's phone rings, he reaches for it immediately, hoping it's his wife. His wife, who he is, at the moment, incredibly irritated with. She promised she'd make this weekend work. Promised she'd make it for dinner on Friday night, promised she'd go out of her way to be nice to his parents - even if they weren't so kind to her. For Mason's sake, and Cooper's, and in the vain hope that maybe, just maybe, if she was at her most charming his parents might change their mind about her.

Of course, now it's almost 9:00 and she's still not here, and his mother has made more than one not-so-subtle remark about her absence. They're having a great time — his parents love Violet, after all, and they're totally smitten with Mason. But Charlotte should be here - should be a part of this good time, so they can realize they should love the hell out of her just like he does. And she's not. Because she got "delayed."

So when the phone rings, and he reaches for it, and it's not her name on the caller ID, he's disappointed. Disappointed, and pissed, and he doesn't really _want_ to answer it, but he doesn't get all that many calls from Amelia, and what if it's about a patient?

It rings a few times before he finally punches "Answer," and says, "Hey, Amelia, now's not really a good time."

"I'm with Charlotte," she tells him, and that changes everything.

He hopes — selfishly — that Amelia has had some kind of setback, and Charlotte ran off to be her shoulder to lean on or something. At least if she's doing something noble, he doesn't have to be so pissed at her.

"Where are you guys?"

"Is Mason in the room with you?" she asks, and something about the question makes his gut churn uneasily. He glances at his son, who's looking back at him now from his place next to Violet on one of the sitting room sofas.

He looks away quickly, trying to be casual, and answers, "Yeah. Why?"

"Leave the room for a minute."

And now he's definitely worried.

"Why?"

"Because you're going to have a reaction to what I'm about to tell you, and Charlotte didn't want me to call you at all, mostly because she doesn't want to upset Mason. So leave the room."

He stands, walks out of the living room and into the hallway without a word. When he thinks he's out of earshot he tells her, "Okay. What's going on?"

"Charlotte totaled her car on the way home."

"What?" It's louder than he intended, but he feels like the floor has fallen out from underneath him for a second. He has flashbacks of Violet standing in a bar with Lucas on her hip, telling him Charlotte's been attacked, that she's hurt, that he needs to go. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Amelia assures, and at least now he feels like he can breathe again. "She dislocated her shoulder, and she has a concussion, some bruises, but she's fine. Really. We just ran a CT, and everything is normal."

"Thank God," he exhales, leaning against the wall and tipping his head back, eyes shut, waiting for his pulse to stop racing. "You couldn't have led with that?"

"Yeah," she draws out, adding, "Sorry about that. Didn't really think that one through." Clearly, he thinks. He opens his eyes again, and studies the photo on the wall opposite him as Amelia talks. It's a short wall - just enough to give the kitchen some definition, and he had talked Charlotte into peppering it with family photos. He took the one he's looking at now - Charlotte and Mason at the Huntington Gardens this spring, standing in front of a blooming magnolia tree, big grins on both of their faces. He needs to see her. Now. "Anyway, that's why she's late, and even though everything is fine, and nothing seems out of the ordinary, I want to keep her here for a few hours. It's overly cautious, but after what happened with Dell… I just don't want to take any chances."

"No, yeah, of course," he agrees. "I'll leave now - I'll be there soon."

"No!" she insists. "No, don't do that. You don't need to do that. Charlotte didn't even want to call you, she wanted you to stay with your parents-"

"My wife is in the hospital; I'm not staying home because she thinks I-"

"I will bring her home," Amelia assures. "I'm keeping her until midnight, running another CT, and then if that's clear, I'll deliver her right to your door, and you can keep an eye on her overnight, and she'll be fit as a slightly dented fiddle by morning. I promise. I just wanted you to know where she is, and that she's safe."

She's doing her best to be reassuring, but Cooper's not having any of it. She's his _wife_. His parents can wait.

"I'm coming," he tells her again, and she blows out a frustrated breath.

"Don't come. Or, come, but don't tell Mason. She doesn't want to upset the kid."

"I can't lie to him," Cooper tells her. "We don't lie to him - we promised." It's part of their House Rules — literally. On the framed list in the kitchen, right between _no food or drink in the sitting room_ and _ice cream must be consumed every Friday night_.

"Look, I've gotta go," Amelia says. "Charlotte's films are done, and she's going to want to see them, I'm sure. Don't come. Stay home. She's fine. I promise."

"Yeah, mhmm," is the only response Cooper gives, and Amelia's gotta know it's not any kind of commitment from him, but she lets it go anyway, and they hang up.

When he walks back into the sitting room, Mason is looking at him with wide, scared eyes, and that's when he learns that sound carries just fine from the hallway. He should've known - the first floor of their house is fairly open plan, and it's not unheard of for Charlotte to yell clear across it from the kitchen to tell them to turn down the TV in the family room. He should've taken the phone all the way out back, by the pool, shut the kitchen's sliding doors behind them to block out the sound. But he didn't, and now Mason's heard one side of a conversation he wasn't meant to be a part of, and Cooper doesn't have to wait for his, "Something happened to Charlotte, didn't it?" to know this is going to be a thing.

Cooper sighs, and squeezes onto the sofa next to Mason, reaching for his hand and squeezing. "Your stepmom is fine," he assures him.

"Then why'd you leave the room?"

"Because Amelia asked me to." It's honest. Doesn't explain much, but it's honest.

Mason just scowls deeper, and asks him, "Why?"

Cooper frowns. He's going to have to give him the whole story — or enough of it, anyway. He shifts until he's facing Mason more directly, their knees crammed together, his arm stretching along the back of the sofa behind his son's head. He makes sure to look him in the eye when he tells him, "Because your stepmom got hurt tonight, and she knew that when she told me, I'd react. And Charlotte doesn't want you worried about her. She asked Amelia not to say anything until they were on their way home, but Amelia called me now, so we wouldn't worry."

"Is everything alright?" Violet asks. She's on Mason's other side; his parents are taking up the sofa across the coffee table, and showing just enough concern to be considered polite. They don't say anything, though. It's Violet who asks again, "What happened?"

"Amelia says she's fine. She crashed her car, got a little banged up. It's all minor, but she has a concussion, and after what happened to Dell, Amelia's erring on the side of caution and keeping her for a few hours for observation."

Violet gets the same slightly pained look he's probably wearing as well - the same one he's sure was on Amelia's face when she brought up what happened to Dell. It may not be a fresh loss, but it's a painful one nonetheless.

Mason, however, still isn't satisfied. He looks between Cooper and Violet - seeking answers. "Who's Dell? What happened to Dell? If she's okay, why are they keeping her?"

This is so not a road he wanted to go down.

"Dell was a friend of ours," he begins carefully. "He was in a car accident, and he seemed okay afterward, but he wasn't. He'd hit his head during the crash, and he said he was fine, but… his brain was bleeding, and we didn't catch it in time… And he died."

"Cooper," his mother admonishes, and he can tell just from the look on her face that she doesn't think it's at all appropriate to be discussing this with a scared child. And maybe she's right, but Mason's been through more than most kids, and they've promised him honesty. So. Honesty he gets.

"So Charlotte's brain could be bleeding?" he asks, the panic in his voice creeping higher — Cooper is clearly not doing a good job here. "She could _die?_"

"No," he assures, running his hand over his son's hair. "No, Mason, they checked. They ran the tests right away, and Amelia says everything looks normal, and there's no sign of bleeding, but sometimes with brain injuries, the bleeding is slow, and it takes some time to see it on the scans, so she wants to keep Charlotte for a few hours, and run the test again. If it's still normal after a few hours, she'll bring her home. But there's no reason to worry. Amelia says everything is fine. Your stepmom is _just fine_. Okay?"

"I want to see her," Mason insists. "I heard you say you're going. I want to go with."

"Mason… it's late."

"It's only nine!"

"So it's almost your bedtime," Cooper points out. "You'll go to bed, you'll wake up, and she'll be back here, safe and sound."

"NO!" The force of his protest startles Cooper a little - he wasn't expecting a full on yell, and he definitely wasn't expecting the shove he gets next. "No, you can't keep me here! It's not fair! I want to see her! I want to go with! She's _my_ stepmom! It's not _fair!_"

"Okay, okay," Cooper soothes, pulling Mason in close, despite the boy's wriggling. "Okay, we'll go. You and I will go."

He meets Violet's eyes over Mason's head, and she nods at him — this is the right thing to do. It may be exactly what Charlotte didn't want, but honestly speaking, that's fine by him.

"Go," she urges him quietly, and he nods, and presses a kiss to the top of Mason's head, then tells him to go get his shoes, so they can go.

They're out the door in less than ten minutes.


	6. Chapter 6

Charlotte's going stir crazy. Or maybe just crazy.

She's been in this room for half an hour now, and she's had no less than six visits from the floor nurses. It's like as soon as one leaves, another shows up. Amelia brought her scans as soon as they were ready, and they're hanging on the light box a few feet away. The light's still on, shining brightly in a room otherwise half-lit. Charlotte's gaze keeps wandering to the films, studying them over and over. It's not that she's that interested in the sight of her own brain, but she knows she's not allowed to sleep, and her body is desperate to defy the order. The scans are something to keep her brain working on. Something to keep her awake.

But the light's starting to make her eyes ache, so she looks away for a while, taking stock of all her other sore parts. Her shoulder still aches, but now that everything is back in its proper place, the pain is less acute. She's braced, her shoulder immobilized, and there's an icepack on her bruised ankle. Her feet are bare, and her toes are cold. She's not exactly sure what shoes she'll wear home. She was wearing heels when she left work - she hadn't even noticed that she'd gone barefoot from the car to the gurney. She has a pair of flats in her office - maybe she can put one of these nosy nurse visits to good use and have someone run and grab them for her.

Of course, her office keys are in her purse, and her purse is currently locked in Amelia's trunk.

She's not sure where Amelia ran off to - she'd shown up with the films, and Charlotte's cell phone, and then left again. Something about checking on another patient as long as she's here.

Another nurse pokes her head in, letting in a rush of familiar hospital noise when she opens the door. It takes a second to place her name - Amanda, Charlotte reminds herself. She's young, and new, and eager to please. She's not exactly Charlotte's favorite.

"Hi, Dr. King," she greets, with a cheeriness that borders on false, and sets Charlotte's teeth on edge. "Is there anything you need?"

"Aside from some time to myself? Yeah, actually. I need you to get Sheila for me. She's up on three. I have an errand I need her to run. Can you do that?" Amanda nods, so Charlotte adds, "And can you please, for the love of God, let the other nurses on this floor know that I have water, and I don't need another blanket, and my ice pack is just fine, and they can all just leave me the hell alone for a while?"

Amanda hesitates, looks guilty, and then cracks, admitting: "We're not allowed to do that, Dr. King."

"You're what now?"

"Dr. Shepherd ordered one of us to check on you every five minutes — to make sure you don't fall asleep — until your husband gets here."

Charlotte's irritated scowl melts away for a minute, an angry sneer rising up in its place. "Until my what?"

"Your… husband?" Amanda says tentatively, clearly just becoming aware that she may have stepped in it. Big time.

"Y'know what. Forget about Sheila. Go find me Dr. Shepherd — now." The girl nods quickly, and is about to close the door when Charlotte calls her back with, "And Amanda?"

"Yeah?" She's gripping the door in front of her like a shield.

"Dr. Shepherd isn't in charge of this hospital. I am. So when I say y'all leave me the hell alone, my orders trump hers. Are we clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Amanda manages, and she hovers in the door for a minute, unsure, until Charlotte orders her out with a firm, "Go!"

She's going to kill Amelia.


	7. Chapter 7

No more than five minutes later, Amelia walks in, her face splattered with a combination of guilt, apology, and devil-may-care.

She doesn't even wait for Charlotte to speak, she just starts in with, "Look, I know you said not to call him but -"

"You called _Cooper_?" Charlotte interrupts, repeating. "You called Cooper."

"Yes."

"After I told you not to."

"Yes," Amelia confirms, adding in her defense, "But that was when you were just going to get patched up and go home. When I decided to keep you for a few hours, I-"

"Went against my express wishes-"

"Called your husband so he wouldn't worry." Amelia's strong enough that Charlotte knows she's convinced she's right about this, and logically maybe she is, but Charlotte isn't thinking logically. She's not thinking logically because she knows there's an 8 year old boy at home who doesn't think logically these days, certainly not about things like this, and his dad has either had to lie to him or scare him, and neither of those things are okay with her.

"You shouldn't have called him, Amelia," Charlotte insists again, and as if to prove her point, the door swings open violently, the handle snapping back into position with a loud, springy rattle as Mason comes barreling into the room. When he sees Charlotte in the bed, he stops short, and the look on his face guts her. He's terrified. This is exactly what she was trying to avoid.

"Mason!" She hears Cooper's voice from the hall, and the hurried slap of sole on linoleum, and then he's trotting into the room as well, slightly out of breath. "You can't just go running through the-" he starts to scold, but then he catches sight of her, and looks at Amelia. "You said she was okay!"

"She is okay," Amelia says, and Cooper's having none of it.

"She's in a neck brace! She's-"

"I am fine," Charlotte insists, raising her voice to talk over him. The noise makes her head throb just a little, so she adds, "And if we could all keep our voices down, I'd really appreciate it." Cooper opens his mouth to say something, but Charlotte turns her attention to Mason, and says, "Come sit with me."

He takes a hesitant stop forward, and she urges again, "Come on, up on the bed. I want to talk to you."

He crosses the short distance to the hospital bed and carefully climbs onto the edge. He's careful not to touch her, just takes her in with wide, concerned eyes. He's looking at her neck, her shoulder…

"Mason, look at me. Look at my eyes," she urges, and, reluctantly, he does. When she's got eye contact, she tells him, "I am okay. I'm banged up, but I'm okay. My arm is hurt, and my head is sore, but I. Am. Okay. Alright?"

"But your neck is in a brace."

"It's just a precaution," she assures. He doesn't look convinced, so she goes for another tactic. "Y'know that Dodger bobblehead your daddy got you at the game?"

"Yeah…"

"Remember that day you shook the crap out of it, and I told you to knock it off or you'd break the springs?"

Mason nods.

"Well, when you get in a car accident, it can be kind of like that. Your head gets knocked around, and it strains your neck. So right now, my neck's aggravated, and when those muscles and tendons are already inflamed, it's easier to hurt 'em. So the brace just makes sure I keep my head still until my neck has a little time to relax and heal up. It's to make sure I don't get hurt, not because I'm already hurt. Okay?"

He blows out a breath, relaxing a little bit, and nodding. "Okay. What happened to your arm?"

"I got jostled around pretty hard. It dislocated my shoulder, but the doctors put it back in place, and now it's fine. I just have to wear this thing-" She points at her shoulder brace with her good hand. "For a few days, so my shoulder doesn't move. So it can heal up properly, and not get strained or hurt again."

"Like the brace on your neck."

"Kind of, but my neck's not really hurt too badly. My shoulder got took a good wallop, so it needs more time to heal up. I can take the neck brace off tomorrow if I want to. I'll probably sleep in it for a few nights, just to make sure I don't wrench it funny while I sleep, but during the day I can just be careful not to move it the wrong way, or too fast, and I'll be fine."

He touches her, finally, sliding his hand over to her leg and resting it there tentatively. He's still looking at her like she's made of candy-glass, like she's about to fall all to pieces any second. She's not surprised when he asks her, "Are you lying to me?"

"No, sir," she promises. "Not about a damned thing." He nods, and relaxes, finally, and Charlotte reaches her good hand toward him. He gives her his hand, and she gives him a little tug, urging, "Come here for a second, give me a hug - but gently, and just on this side."

He nods, and scoots up the bed, leaning carefully against her good shoulder. Charlotte brings her hand up and traces her fingers through his hair, then settles her hand on the back of his neck. She meets Cooper's eyes over the top of Mason's head, and he mouths _thank you_. She tries to nod, but the brace is in her way, so she just smiles an acknowledgement at him.

Cooper moves to the bed, then, finally, sitting on the edge next to her feet. He lifts the ice pack gingerly from her ankle and inspects it. It's bruised all to hell from one of pedals, and a little bit swollen, but the consensus seemed to be that it didn't require crutches. Just some ice, and a few days of favoring, and it should heal up alright.

Amelia's still hanging out by the door, arms crossed, just watching. Charlotte gives her a look, and frowns, then tells her, "You're forgiven. Go. And I need my purse - I left my shoes in the car, need to get into my office for my spare pair."

"I have your shoes," Amelia says. "But the heel broke on one, so... yeah. I'll go get the other pair from your office. Where are they?"

"They're in the bottom right drawer of my desk. They're flats."

"Okay. Sit tight," she tells her, before turning to leave.

As she watches her slip out the door, Charlotte mutters, "Where would I go?" Cooper smirks at her, and lays her ice pack gently into place again. For a minute, it's all quiet again, the only sounds Mason's steady breathing and the brush of hospital blanket on starched sheet as Cooper draws the blanket from under her injured leg and drapes it loosely over her. Her toes are instantly more comfortable.

He's looking at her like he wants to talk to her, like he's biting his tongue, but he doesn't say a word. He won't in front of Mason, she realizes. Not if they're going to be talking about what happened, and how hurt she is, and all that. Not now that she's got him settled.

Mason shifts a little against her side, and Charlotte figures she should find something to distract him with. She drums her fingertips lightly against his neck, and asks, "Hey - wanna see my brain?"

Mason lifts his head and smiles at her. "Sure!"

She points to the backlit films, and tells him, "That's me."

"Can I go look?"

"Yeah, of course."

He scoots off the bed and walks closer, peering up at them, and telling her, "It looks normal. Right?"

"Mmhmm," she assures, knowing the last scan he saw belonged to his mama, and was marred with a large, ugly tumor. She hopes that seeing her flawless CT will help settle him some - especially since she's going to have to tell him something soon that she knows he won't want to hear. "No sign of anything gone wrong. Just a little concussion, and that's nothin' to worry about."

He nods his head and comes back to the bed, climbing back onto it with a little less caution than the first time, and grinning at her. "I'm glad you're okay."

She smiles, and tells him, "Me too," then takes a breath and prepares for the protest she knows will come when she adds, "But it is gettin' to be past someone's bedtime, so you and your daddy need to head home."

Sure enough, his expression drops, that smile turning into a scowl, his forehead creasing. "No. I don't want to go."

"I know," she assures kindly, but she hopes there's just enough edge in her tired voice for him to know she means business when she says, "But I'm gonna be here for a few more hours, still, and you need to be gettin' to bed. So your daddy's gonna take you home, and I'll see you in the mornin'."

"But I want to stay here with you," he insists. "I can sleep here, too."

"Mason, your stepmom needs to rest," Cooper tells her, and Charlotte thinks maybe that was the wrong thing to say. That's what they told him about Erica, over and over, when what she needed wasn't rest, but chemo and a miracle.

Sure enough, he sounds a little more upset when he looks to his dad and insists again, "I want to stay here. She can rest with me here. I'll be really good, I promise."

"Mason, look at me," she urges, and he whips his head back around to her. "You got to see me. You see that I'm okay. I can't die from a busted shoulder, or a sore ankle, and you just saw the inside of my brain, so you know it's fine, right?"

He nods, reluctantly.

"So you know - you _know_ - that I am okay. Now, you have a busy weekend comin' up, and you're gonna need your rest. So you go home with your dad, and when you wake up, I'll be there. I promise you. Will you do that for me?"

He still doesn't look convinced, his face twisted with discontent and worry. "Do I have to?" he asks her quietly.

"Yeah, baby," she tells him gently. "You do."

He deflates, shoulders drooping, eyes going downcast and disappointed.

Charlotte looks to Cooper and can tell by the look on his face that Mason's breaking his heart as much as he is her own. But then her husband gives her a little smile, and reaches for his son's shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

"Come on, bud. Let's go home, so Charlotte can rest."

Mason slides off the bed sluggishly, then spins to look at her again. "You promise you'll be home?" he insists.

Charlotte makes sure to look him square in the eye, and says, "I promise."

He nods a little, then moves out of the way as Cooper steps in, leaning in carefully and brushing the softest of kisses against Charlotte's forehead. "I'll wait up," he murmurs, and she tells him, "Okay," and "Drive safely," and then they're leaving too.

Just before they reach the door, Mason turns back and calls, "I love you!" like he's just realized he hasn't said it, and wants to make sure he gets it out before they leave.

Charlotte can't help grinning. "I love you, too, kiddo," she insists, and then they're gone.

The silence that follows them is still and peaceful, and after a few minutes Charlotte feels her eyelids droop. She blinks rapidly, sucks in a deep lungful of oxygen, and thinks maybe she was too quick to send away the only distractions she had in this dark, quiet room.

Reluctantly, she pages one of the floor nurses. When she pokes her head in, Charlotte asks her to stop by every ten minutes. Annoyed or not, at least she'll be awake.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: **__Thank you all so much for your reviews! I've had a lot going on lately, and haven't had time to reply to each one individually, but I want you to know that I read them all, and I appreciate the feedback! _

* * *

"Is she really going to be okay?" Mason asks, when they're almost home. They took a different route - traffic was still sluggish in the direction of the crash on the way to the hospital, and while he's sure it's cleared out by now, he doesn't want to risk Mason seeing broken glass or dented cars. Decimated cars, more like it, he thinks.

Amelia had taken photos of the damage before she left the scene, and when they'd run into her on the way out of the hospital, she offered to send them to him, in case they needed them for insurance purposes. He'd made the mistake of asking to see them then. They'd made his stomach lurch anxiously, made him want to run back into that room and stay all night, just the way Mason wanted to. The front passenger corner of her car was crumpled, the driver's side had a car-sized dent over the rear wheel base. She's lucky. Luckier than maybe she realizes. Whoever hit her the second time had to have swerved to aim for the rear of the car, or they'd have ended up square in her door. Cooper had told Amelia to send the photos to Charlotte - he didn't want to risk Mason seeing them come in on the drive home. He wasn't sure he wanted to be able to see them at will, either.

"Yeah, Mason," he tells his son, finally, as they turn onto their street. He nearly misses the turn half the time, but tonight he's driving carefully enough that it doesn't catch him off guard. "She's really going to be okay."

"Can I stay up until she gets home?"

Cooper sighs, shifts his grip on the wheel. He wants to say yes, because he understands why Mason feels the way he does. And it feels harsh, and unkind to make him lay in bed and stew over everything when he could just wait up with his dad for the closest thing he has left to a mom to come home. But it's late, and Cooper knows he's tired, and he has this vain hope that maybe if he gets Mason settled into bed, he'll fall asleep and have a few less hours of worry. So he tells him, "No, bud, I'm sorry. She's gonna be pretty late, and we have Disneyland tomorrow, remember?"

Mason sighs heavily, his only form of protest.

Cooper makes his way down their tree-lined block, then pulls into their driveway. Violet's car is gone, but that doesn't surprise him too much. It's getting late, after all, and she has a toddler.

He parks his car in the garage, and tries not to be unnerved by the empty space next to it. She'll be home soon, he reminds himself. Car or not, she'll be here soon.

Mason trudges into the house ahead of him.

His parents are still in the living room, right where he left them. He knows they've moved - they've switched sofas. They're on the one Violet and Mason had been on before - the one facing the door. They one they'd had in their loft. The new sofa is empty now, and he can see the strap of his mother's purse peeking over the edge of the white armchair. His father is flipping through a magazine, his mother has a novel propped open - both things that had been packed away before. So he knows, logically, that they've been up and about. But there's something about the way it looks - like they've just been sitting there, placid and undisturbed, since he left - that sets him on edge.

His mother looks up when they walk in, and smiles. "I didn't expect to see you back so soon."

"Charlotte sent us home," he explains, running a hand over Mason's hair. "Mason got to see that she was okay, but she didn't want him to stay up too late, so... We're home. Nothing to do at the hospital anyway, right?"

He directs the question at Mason, who jerks his shoulder and mutters, "I wanted to stay with Charlotte."

"I'm sure she'll be just fine," his mother says to Mason, in a way that's actually meant to be soothing.

Mason has either accepted his fate, or is trying to bail in protest of it, Cooper's not sure. But his son looks up at him, and asks, "Can I go to get ready for bed?" and Cooper nods, and tells him of course he can. His parents say goodnight, and Mason returns the sentiment half-heartedly, then heads for the stairs.

When he's gone, Cooper's mother says easily, "Violet had to get home to her little boy. That Lucas of hers is getting cuter every year. She showed us some photos on her phone, and, oh, he's just so precious."

She's still smiling pleasantly.

Something in Cooper snaps. A tiny piece of politeness and self-control, a little bridge of patience. He scowls hard and glares at his mother. "Really? That's what you have to say right now?"

She looks up at him, bewildered, and Cooper's dad lowers the magazine he had just picked up again. "I don't know what you mean..." his mother says carefully, and it just pisses Cooper off even more.

"We get back from the hospital, and all you have to say is 'that was fast,' and 'Violet sure has a cute kid'? How about 'how is Charlotte? Is she hurt? Will she be home soon?' Any of that might be just a step up from the entire lack of concern you're showing right now."

"We know how she is," his mother reminds, her own face drawing into a frown now. "You told us before you left, and again when you got home - she's just fine."

"No, she's not just fine," Cooper spits back, before making a conscious effort to lower his voice. The last thing he wants is Mason hiding at the top of the stairs and listening in onto what he's about to say. And he's going to say it - he has to - he can't keep his mouth shut anymore, not right now. "She's in a shoulder brace, and a neck brace, she's not allowed to sleep for the next several hours to make sure she doesn't, y'know, go into a coma. She hurt her ankle... Her car got creamed - it's totaled - and she's incredibly lucky that she walked away on her own. As far as Mason is concerned, yeah, she's okay. She's not going to die, she's not permanently injured, but she's not 'just fine,' and you'd think, as her in-laws, as _my_ _parents_, you'd care enough to find that out."

They have the decency to look just a little bit contrite, but his father still draws a breath and reminds, "Cooper, her behavior in the past hasn't exactly endeared her to us-"

"She's my wife!" he yells at him, a little louder than he meant to. "And she's Mason's stepmom. And she's your daughter-in-law, for God's sake, you'd think you could bring yourselves to care just a little bit."

"It's not that we don't care, son," his dad begins again, but Cooper cuts him off.

"Yeah, actually, I think that it is. You don't care. You don't care about her, and you certainly don't care to get to know her. I get that she did some things in our past, believe me, I do - I'm the one she did them to. But we are _past_ that. We have moved on. And you are so hung up on the things that she did to me then, you can't be bothered to look at the things she's done for me since. God, the last few months alone - do you have any idea what we've been through? What she's gone through, for me? For Mason? She is amazing. She is a rock. And we have a _good_ _marriage_, and she is an incredible stepmom to our son. Mason loves her. I love her. And she is sitting in a hospital bed right now, alone and in pain and I am here, completely useless, waiting for someone else to bring her home. So if you could maybe find it somewhere in your hearts to care, just a little bit, that your son is upset, that his wife is hurt, and that even if you don't like her..." He runs out of steam, suddenly, his sentence trailing off into nothing. He's not entirely sure where he was going with that, just that he was mad, and that he's scared, and that the last thing he needs right now is his parents being cold and stubborn about the woman he loves. He sucks in a deep breath, let's it out, sorts his words. "Even if you don't like her, I love her. And she's not going anywhere. So can you please just give her another chance? God knows she deserves it."

His mother's mouth tightens and she opens her mouth, and starts with, "You may love her, but-"

But his dad holds up a hand, and cuts her off, telling Cooper, "We'll see how the weekend goes."

It's not much of a concession, but it's a start, and Cooper's shoulders sag with the heavy breath he lets out.

"I'm not making any promises," his father adds, "But for the weekend, I will...suspend my earlier impressions." He looks to Cooper's mom for agreement: "Judy?"

His mother makes a sound of disapproval, and says, "She'll have to prove herself. But I am sorry that you're so upset, dear, and it was rude of us not to ask about her."

"Thank you," Cooper breathes, shaking his head a little. It's far from what he wants to hear from them, but he'll take whatever he can get. He doesn't want to be in this room anymore, not really, so he tells them, "I need to go check on my son."

As he heads for the stairs, his parents look at each other. It doesn't take much guesswork to know they'll be talking about this as soon as he's out of earshot.


	9. Chapter 9

It's after one o'clock and Charlotte still isn't home. Everyone else is long asleep, but Cooper is sitting at the kitchen island, his phone next to his elbow. He checks the time on the microwave incessantly. Amelia said she was running the second scan at midnight, and it's only twenty minutes from the hospital to their new place. She should be home by now.

At the very least, Amelia should have called him to say they're on their way.

He picks up his phone, waking it up and checking the battery - its charged. He looks at the time - 1:17. She should be home by now. He raps the edge of his phone anxiously on the grey granite countertop, a steady taptaptap muffled slightly by his case. It sounds unusually loud in the silence of the kitchen.

When the phone vibrates, he startles so hard he almost drops it. It's a text message, from Amelia: "We're here."

Relief floods him, and he pushes his stool back with a scrape of wood on tile and heads for the front door. Amelia's car is parked in the driveway, idling. The lights are still on, illuminating the closed garage door and making it so he can't see a damned thing, even if he squints.

He's almost to the passenger door when it pops open softly. Charlotte doesn't open it all the way, but she doesn't have to. As soon as there's enough room for his fingers, he grips the top of the door and helps her pull it open. The open door has lit the overhead light inside, and he can see her, finally. She looks even more exhausted than the last time he saw her. Her neck is still in the brace, and so is her shoulder - but he was expecting that.

She's saying something to Amelia, but it's too quiet to make out, and she stops talking when he ducks his head in. "Hey," he greets softly. Charlotte looks to him, but says nothing. Amelia gives him a "hi" in return. "I'm assuming since you're here, everything looked good?"

"Scans are clear," Amelia confirms. "She's all yours."

"Thank you for taking care of her," he says, and then again for good measure, "I mean it. _Thank you_."

"She'd do the same for me," Amelia tells him dismissively. Like it's nothing. "Do you need help getting her stuff in?"

"Does she have a lot?"

"Enough."

Charlotte speaks up then, finally. "She'd really, really like to go to bed now, if y'all are almost done yappin'." She sounds spent. Depleted. Cooper's heart aches for her.

"Okay," he soothes. "Let's get you inside." He looks to Amelia and asks, "Do you mind bringing her stuff in?"

"Nah, you guys go ahead." She kills the engine, and Charlotte shifts herself gingerly until she's facing him. With great care, they ease her from the car, and once she's on her feet, Cooper wraps his arm around her waist for support. She leans into him, and sighs, and together they make their way up the walk. She's favoring her right leg, but she's steady on her feet, and he's grateful for that. According to Amelia, she wasn't so sure footed earlier.

He leaves the door open for Amelia and guides Charlotte through the foyer and past the living room. She doesn't speak, but she sighs heavily as they approach the bottom of the stairs.

"Need a lift?" he asks, trying to keep it light. Teasing.

He's surprised when she quirks a little smile. "I'm okay," she tells him quietly. "Ankle's just sore, that's all. Stairs seem a little… daunting."

"I've got you," he assures, and her smile widens.

It only lasts a second, though, before it fades into a scowl and she points out, "Also, I can't really see my feet with my neck stuck like this."

Cooper can't help it - he chokes out a little laugh. It shouldn't be funny — she's hurt, after all — but something in the way she said it was just so… _her_. It's reassuring. She really is going to be okay. "Let me worry about your feet," he says. "Just follow my lead, okay?"

"Mmhmm."

They take the first step carefully, then the next, one more… She winces slightly, but seems otherwise okay. On the next step, she asks, "Did Mason get to sleep okay?" and suddenly her voice sounds tired again.

"He went to bed," Cooper tells her. "I can't guarantee he's sleeping. I checked on him about half an hour ago, though, and if he's awake, he's a good faker."

They're making steady progress up the stairs, and he can hear Amelia shut the front door below. A minute later, he hears the tap go on in the kitchen.

"Maybe you should check again?" Charlotte suggests, drawing his attention back to their slow, steady traverse to the second floor. "Let him know I made it home safely…"

"I will," he says, adding, "If he's not really asleep."

They've reached the top now, and he steers her toward their room, glad tonight that it's the first door in the hall. He just wants her in bed, and comfortable. Safe, and home, with him. She must have the same idea, because she heads for the bed immediately, not giving a second thought to the adjoining bath and its promises of clean skin or minty-fresh breath. He doesn't question her choice, just draws the duvet back, and helps her slip out of her shoes and under the covers. Her pillows aren't quite right - she can't sleep her usual way with her neck and shoulder restrained — so he adds one of his own, then adjusts them until she can get comfortable.

She relaxes into the plush softness, then closes her eyes. "I need to sleep for a bit," she murmurs. "I know you have to wake me, but…" And then her voice goes small, almost fragile. "I'm so tired. I just need an hour or two."

He shushes her softly, then lifts his fingers to her face, and brushes aside a few strands of dark blonde hair. "Rest. I'm going to go talk to Amelia for a minute, okay? If you're still awake when I get back, we can talk about what happened."

She hums her agreement, but it's a sleepy statement, and he has a feeling she'll be out like a light by the time he returns.

He kisses her brow again, then heads downstairs.

Amelia is waiting for him in the kitchen, and they go over Charlotte's injuries, all the pertinent info and instructions for care. It's not like he doesn't know how to take care of someone who's been hurt, but Charlotte's kept him shut out of this for most of the night, so Amelia has the upper hand when it comes to knowing what she's been through, and what she needs. It's all as he expected - wake her every few hours tonight, just to make sure she can be woken. The neck brace can come off during the day, but make sure she takes it easy. Shoulder brace stays on except for showers or baths, until a doctor tells her otherwise.

She tells Cooper to relax, as well - doctor's orders, she says. Take a chill pill, Charlotte's going to be okay.

He knows it's true, but he's still unsettled by the whole thing. They've had more than their share of upheaval in the past two years, and he keeps finding himself wondering when everything will finally just settle down and get back to normal.

When they've gone over everything, Amelia heads home, and Cooper wearily climbs the stairs again. He stops in Mason's room first, sitting on the edge of his bed, and stroking a hand over his head. He doesn't stir, not even a little bit, so Cooper decides he can wait until morning for his reassurances.

He leaves the room, shuts the door quietly behind him, and heads for his bedroom. Charlotte's eyes are closed, and she's still and peaceful. Or mostly peaceful, anyway. There's a slight crease between her brows, like she's not quite settled, not quite comfortable. She's definitely asleep, though, that much he can tell. And if he wasn't sure, her lack of response to his quietly whispered, "You awake?" provided the final confirmation.

Cooper strips down to underwear and his t-shirt and climbs in next to her. He sets his alarm for 3:00, and dims the bedside light until it's low, but not quite out, then settles in for the night.

He doesn't sleep - not for the first cycle, anyway. He just lays awake, watching her. Memorizing the shape of her for the thousandth time. The angle of her cheek, the slope of her nose, the curve of her mouth. He studies her lashes, the color of her hair, the contour of her elbow, the tone of her skin against the dark cotton of her scrubs. His eyes grow grainy, and heavy, but he can't take his them off of her, not until his alarm beeps shrilly and he's woken her for the first time.

She settles quickly again, and Cooper loops his fingers around her wrist, her pulse beating lazily beneath his fingertips and reassuring him that she's okay, and there with him. Beat after beat. He counts each one, beat, beat, beat, and lets the steady climb lull him into sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

The night is long, and tiring, and when Cooper's last alarm finally goes off, he smacks the snooze and rubs at eyes still grainy and throbbing with lack of rest. He'd slept, on and off, between the ringing of alarms. But never deeply, and not very well. He'd woken Charlotte every few hours, as instructed, but he lets her sleep now. It's morning; they're in the clear.

And he has a small road trip to embark on.

They're supposed to be going to Disneyland today - the five of them. It'll be four now, he realizes. There's no way Charlotte is in any shape to go. He's not entirely sure she'll have a problem with that - amusement parks aren't really her thing. At least, not ones crawling with kids, and tourists, and the cheerful Disney spirit. She'd do it, for Mason, for him, to make a good impression on his parents. She'd do it with a smile on her face, and she might even have fun, but Cooper knows there are a million things she'd enjoy more. So maybe it's better this way. Maybe it's better that it will just be him, and his son, and his parents.

Oh, who is he kidding? It should be all of them. It won't be nearly as entertaining with her here at home, recovering, and him there worrying about her. He wants her with him, bitching about lines and sneering at obnoxious tourists when nobody else is looking. He wants to watch her show off for his parents, wants to watch her and Mason have fun together. Watch them laugh. He wants one of those pictures of all of them in free-fall, making crazy, excited, terrified faces as they plunge.

Still, this weekend isn't about what suits him, it's about Mason getting to know his grandparents, so Cooper sits up and swings his legs out of bed, takes a deep breath, then pushes himself to his feet. He's so tired that the room spins a little when he first stands up, and he thinks to himself that he'd better let his dad do the driving if he's this sleep-deprived. Maybe he can catch a nap in the backseat on the way…

He showers quickly, then throws on jeans and a t-shirt, and heads down the hallway to wake his son.

When he walks into the bedroom, he can't help but smile. Mason is sprawled on the bed, his comforter half on the floor, one foot poking out from beneath the bright red sheets. His hair is mussed and his face is smushed into his pillow. Cooper wishes, not for the first time, for all the mornings like this that he missed. He wonders how many times Erica walked in on him sprawled just like this, and then his heart aches, and he tells himself to think about the future, not the past.

He draws the comforter off completely, and Mason squirms at the cold, that rogue foot drawing in as he rolls onto his side and curls up. He's frowning now, rubbing his cheek against his pillow. Cooper folds the blanket lazily and sets it at the foot of the bed, then sits next to his son and shakes his shoulder gently. "Time to get up, buddy."

Mason's frown deepens, and then he blinks his eyes open cautiously and peers up at his dad. The first words out of his mouth are, "Is Charlotte home?"

Cooper gives him a reassuring smile, mussing his hair even more and letting him know, "She is. She got home around one, but she's still sleeping, so we need to be quiet and leave her alone for a while, okay?"

Mason nods and pushes himself up until he's sitting. "Okay. But everything's okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Let's go downstairs and get some breakfast, okay? Gotta be all powered up for Disney, right?"

Mason grins, then - huge and sincere — and he nods. "Definitely."

"Alright." Cooper grins back. "You throw some clothes on, and then come have some cereal. I might even make eggs," he tells him with a wink.

When Mason agrees, Cooper leaves him to get ready on his own and heads downstairs.

It's only 7am, but his parents are already awake, sitting at the long table in the kitchen, and sipping coffee poured from the pot on the countertop. The smell alone perks Cooper up a little bit, and he heads immediately for the cupboard, drawing down a mug before he even offers his parents a hello. He hopes they'll understand that his need for caffeine right now far outranks his need for politeness.

His dad surprises him, greeting, "Good morning." No surprise there, but then he adds, "Did Charlotte get home okay?"

Well, look at that, Cooper marvels. He _is _trying.

"Yeah," he tells them, clearing his throat a little before continuing, "Our friend Amelia - you remember her from the wedding?" He's not looking - too busy pouring his coffee and settling the pot back into place - but his mother answers regardless.

"She was supposed to be the maid of honor, right?"

"Yes," Cooper confirms, ignoring the undercurrent of irritation beneath his mother's 'supposed to be.' She's still sore about the whole wedding-that-wasn't. "She was. She's who Charlotte called to pick her up last night, and she brought her home around one."

"And she's feeling alright?" his dad continues, earning himself another point from Cooper.

"She's… okay, I guess?" Cooper supplies. "She was really tired, went to sleep right away. I woke her up a few times during the night, but not long enough to talk about how she's feeling or any of that. She's still out; we'll see how she feels later." He carries his coffee toward the table as he talks, but only makes it as far as the kitchen island before one of the cushioned stools calls his name. He'd really like to be sitting again, so he slides onto it, twisting to face his parents and resting his elbow on the white-lacquered wood of the chair back. "But I think it's safe to say she won't be joining us today."

"Mm," his mother tries to sound disappointed, and fails. "What a shame. We were looking forward to spending more time with her."

"Mom…" he warns. He is way too tired, and it is way too early, for this crap.

"What?" She shifts her coffee mug - a sunny yellow one that is Charlotte's favorite - from one hand to the other. "You wanted us to spend more time with her, get to know her. We agreed to do that. All I'm saying is that will be hard with her here all day while we're out."

He eyes his mother suspiciously - a habit he wishes he didn't have to get into - and says, "That's all? It wasn't some underhanded remark about her trying to get out of -"

"No, Cooper," she assures, not making him finish that sentence - for which he's grateful. "It wasn't anything like that."

Cooper takes another sip of his coffee — bitter, wonderful, caffeinated coffee — and looks over as Mason walks into the kitchen and climbs onto the stool next to Cooper. He's in jeans and a Phineas and Ferb t-shirt, and his hair has been combed into place. He hasn't managed socks or shoes yet, but they're in no hurry to get out the door at the moment, so that's not really a problem.

Mason looks at his grandparents, and greets, "Hey."

Cooper's dad smiles at him, and replies in turn, "Hey."

Cooper chuckles, shaking his head and setting his coffee down. "What kind of cereal do you want?" he asks Mason.

"Hmmm…" Mason presses his lips together, weighs his options, and goes with, "Lucky Charms."

"Lucky Charms it is," Cooper confirms, getting up and rounding the island to get at the cereal cupboard. He pulls down the Lucky Charms, then cranes his neck for his parents. "Mom? Dad? Any cereal preferences?"

"What are our options?" his mom asks.

"Let's see…" He scans the boxes. "We have… Lucky Charms, Froot Loops, Kix, Honey Nut Cheerios, regular Cheerios, Raisin Bran, Special K, and Frosted Mini-Wheats."

"Oh, I think I'll be fine with the regular Cheerios," she answers pleasantly. "Russell?"

"I'll go with the same," his dad answers, so Cooper reaches for the yellow box.

"Got it. Three Cheerios for the grown-ups, and a bowl of Lucky Charms for Mr. Warner."

Mason smirks and leans back in his chair, dangerously close to tipping it up on its back legs. Cooper watches him carefully, out of the corner of his eye. It's a habit he's gotten into lately - mostly when Charlotte's around. Cooper's pretty sure he does it to test her patience - and it usually works - but today he just seems to be doing it because he has nothing else to do.

Cooper is grabbing bowls from the cupboard - silly face bowls for Mason and himself, and Charlotte's neat white stoneware for his parents - when he hears his mother chide lightly, "Mason, dear, be careful. If you push back much further, you could tip."

It's the kinder version of Charlotte's _four legs on the ground before you topple and crack your damned head open_, but Mason responds just the same, sitting forward and looking like he's had just a little bit of his fun ruined. Cooper smirks, tempted to make a comment about his stepmom not being the only killjoy in the house. How it's a mom thing. But he doesn't. He simply fills each bowl with cereal and tops them all with milk. Four spoons go from the drawer to the bowls, and Cooper slides his and Mason's bowls onto the island before carrying his parents' to the table.

"So, Mason," his dad starts. "Are you looking forward to Disneyland?"

Mason perks up again, nodding, and saying, "Yeah. We're going to go on Space Mountain!" He reaches for his cereal bowl, tugs it closer and begins carefully scooping up only the marshmallow bits. Cooper asks him if he wants juice, and he nods.

"Space Mountain, huh?" his dad says. "Is that your favorite?"

"Uh huh," he confirms, before munching on his spoonful of sugar. He chews it quickly, and swallows before adding, "That, and Pirates of the Caribbean, and I think I'm tall enough to go on California Screamin' in California Adventure now. But I don't know if we're going there today. Charlotte wasn't sure we'd have time." He looks to Cooper. "Right, Dad?"

"Right," Cooper confirms, setting Mason's juice in front of him, and sliding onto his stool again before spooning up his own cereal. "We'll see how much time we spend in Disney, and if we have time we'll walk over to California Adventure."

"I think we should go," Mason encourages, twisting his seat to see his grandparents better. "California Adventure has Toy Story, too. And bumper cars."

"You know, I don't think we've ever been to California Adventure," Cooper's mother says. "It's been a long time since we've been to a Disney park, and even then, it was Disney World, not Disneyland."

"Oh man, then we _have_ to go, Dad. They've never even been there."

Cooper's so glad to see Mason's back to his usual cheery self that he finds himself saying, "Okay, we'll try. Maybe we'll go over in the middle of the day. We'll take a little break from Disney and hit up California Adventure."

Mason nods, and eats more cereal.

"So, we have Space Mountain," Cooper's dad ticks off, touching his pointer finger. Another finger pops up for, "Pirates of the Caribbean, California… Screaming?" Cooper nods. "And Toy Story. What else?"

"Big Thunder Mountain," Mason says around a mouthful of cereal, and Cooper chides him to chew before he talks. He does, dutifully, then adds, "And the Haunted Mansion, and Indiana Jones. And we have to go on the teacups, too. My mom and I went on them once, and spun them so fast I got sick when we got off."

His grandmother grimaces sympathetically. "That doesn't sound like it was much fun."

"No, it was fun," Mason assures. "I was only sick for a minute. We sat for a little bit, and I was better. But Charlotte says she won't go on the teacups with me - she says she doesn't spin well." He turns to Cooper, then, suggesting, "We should wake her up," Mason says from the table. "She said she wanted to get to Disneyland early, so we wouldn't have to wait in such long lines at first."

Cooper frowns. Maybe he should've mentioned first thing that Charlotte wouldn't be going — it would've saved Mason getting his hopes up. As it is, he has to tell him, "Mason… Charlotte's not going with us today."

Mason's face drops, his hopeful smile going crestfallen. "What? But she promised! She even said she'd bring extra clothes, so we could go on Splash Mountain!"

"Yeah, I know, but that was before she got hurt."

"You said she's okay!"

"She is okay," Cooper tells him, trying to keep his voice even, calm, placid. "But she'll still have her shoulder in the brace, and she hurt her ankle, remember? Disney's a lot of walking, and it's pretty tiring, even for someone who got a good night's sleep and is feeling their best. Your stepmom didn't sleep well last night, and she's probably going to be pretty sore today. She's going to need to stay home and rest a little more, okay?"

Mason's face goes determined and hard, his mouth drawing into a tight scowl. He crosses his arms and announces, "Then I'm not going either."

Great. This is just what he needs on a night of almost no sleep. The I-can-argue-with-anything version of his son. So much for him being back to his happy self…

Cooper sighs and starts with, "Mason…"

But he cuts him off, adamant when he says, "No. If Charlotte's not going, I'm not going."

Cooper is gearing up a response when his mom interjects. "Now, sweetheart, I'm sure we'll still have plenty of fun without your stepmom. Your grandpa and I are in better shape that we might look." She gives him a wink. "We'll ride all the big rides with you, and we will even bring extra clothes for—"

"I don't care!" Mason interrupts, earning a warning utterance of his name from his dad. He turns to Cooper and insists, "I don't! If Charlotte's too hurt to go, then I want to stay here with her. We can't just leave her here all by herself. What if something happens? What if she gets hurt, or falls, or cuts herself, or has a seizure, or-"

It's a laundry list of things he saw happen to his own mother before she died, and Cooper's torn between giving in and standing firm. This weekend is supposed to be fun - a chance for them to go out and do things as a family, for his parents to spoil Mason rotten, and see the awesome kid that he is. If he can't convince Mason that Charlotte really is okay, it will end up being a weekend of anxiety, and worry, and panic.

"She won't," he tells Mason, trying to sound as convincing as possible. He turns Mason's chair so he's facing him fully, and says again, "She won't. None of those things are going to happen, okay? She just needs rest, that's all. She'll be fine if we go, and I'm sure she'd rather you go and have a fun day with your grandparents than stay here with her."

Mason draws in a deep breath, lets it out in a quick sigh. And then he tries a different tactic. "I want to see her."

"She's resting, Mason."

"I don't care. I just want to _see_ her." The anxious look comes over his face again, and Cooper realizes this isn't a tactic. He's just scared. "I haven't gotten to see her yet since she got home. Why can't I go see her?"

Cooper lifts a hand, brushes it over Mason's hair, and tells him, "Because she's asleep, and we don't want to wake her until she's rested."

"I won't wake her," Mason assures, looking ever more agitated by the second. "I won't wake her, I promise, I just want to see her. Can I go see her, _please_?"

Cooper can't deny him - he knows it will only make this worse. So he drops his hand, and nods, telling him, "Yeah, you can go see her. But do _not_ wake her up, okay? Let her sleep."

Mason nods, almost absently, scooting off his stool and taking off around the kitchen wall. Cooper hears his bare feet smack on the hardwood, then pound up a few stairs before starting to slow to something resembling a normal pace. When he looks back at his parents, they're watching him with concern.

Cooper scrubs a hand over his face, and tells them, "Maybe we'll just wait until she wakes up. When he sees she's fine, he'll be okay, he'll want to go. And if he doesn't, she'll talk him into it. It'll be fine."

They don't look convinced, but they don't argue.


	11. Chapter 11

When she wakes to find Mason curled up next to her, Charlotte is surprised - and yet not. He's awake, or at least he's shifting, but she can't see him well with the neck brace still in place. He's curled his index finger around hers, but he's not touching anything else. She gives him a little squeeze and forces a smile, despite the fact that her body still feels like one big bruise.

"Hey you," she greets, her voice raspy with exhaustion and interrupted sleep.

Mason picks his head up immediately and winces down at her. "Did I wake you up?" he asks. "Dad told me not to..."

"Nah," she assures, although she's really not sure why she's awake - or how long she's been asleep this time. "I woke on my own. What time is it?"

He peers past her to the bedside clock and announces, "9:07."

She's surprised they're still home. Anaheim isn't exactly a short drive, and if there's anywhere you want to get an early start, it's Disneyland.

But as long as everyone's still here...

She weaves their fingers further and gives him another squeeze, saying, "Y'know, I'm awfully thirsty. Think you could go downstairs and send your daddy up with a glass of water for me?"

"I can get you one," he offers cheerfully, and she wants to shake her head at him, but she can't, really.

"No, honey, go get your daddy for me, please."

She realizes what she's said wrong - or at least that she's approached this wrong - when he goes all nervous on her and asks, "What's wrong? Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"Mason, take a breath," she urges. "Nothin's wrong. I'm feelin' a little grimy, and I'd like to take a shower. Pretty sure it'd be a lot easier with some help, and I don't think it'd be very appropriate to ask _you_ to help me, now would it? So. Could you please go get your daddy for me?"

Mason calms down, looking a little sheepish as he says, "Oh." Then he gives her a little smile and says, "Okay. I'll be right back."

He scampers off the bed, and heads for the door, and Charlotte stares at the ceiling. Her eyes feel like sandpaper, and her lips are dry, her tongue feels cottony. She has only vague recollections of the times Cooper woke her up during the night, but she knows he did it. She knows, because she's well-versed enough in her husband to know he's overly fussy when it comes to the people he cares about, and because she certainly doesn't have the energy of the well-rested. In fact, she's just gonna let her eyelids droop for a second while she waits for him. Just for a second...

**.:.**

When Cooper walks into the bedroom, he finds Charlotte peacefully asleep again. He's reluctant to wake her, but Mason said she wanted him, so… He sits on the edge of the bed and draws his fingertips lightly over her jaw. She stirs, her lashes fluttering, and when she opens her eyes, she squints at him and frowns. She can't have been asleep longer than a few minutes — he came straight up when Mason told him — but she must've fallen pretty deep, pretty fast because she looks disoriented. Confused. It's kind of adorable, and he can't help but smile at her.

"Hey," he greets softly. "Mason said you wanted me."

"Mm," she hums, and her voice is still all sleepy and slurred when she tells him, "I need a shower."

"Ah. Need some help?"

"Mmhmm..."

She blinks slowly, sleepily, and his smile widens into a grin before he asks, "Are you sure you don't just want to go back to sleep?"

Nobody would blame her. She had a long, interrupted night — so did he, to be honest. His alarm had gone off every two and a half hours, and he'd nudged her awake, made her answer a question. Useless things - what did she want for breakfast this morning, did she think he should check on Mason again, did she want to get a new deck chair for the pool. Things that didn't matter, not really. Just enough that he could get a response out of her, even if that response was "The hell're you talkin' 'bout?," which it had been, once. So if she wanted to go back to sleep, he'd let her, no problem.

But she doesn't.

"Mm-mm," she protests, inhaling deeply, then letting it out. "Wanna get clean before y'all take off."

He frowns a little at that. They were supposed to have left at eight, but Mason had stayed tucked away up here, and Cooper didn't have the heart to drag him away for another debate. Instead, he'd caught a little extra shut-eye on the couch in the TV room.

"Alright. Let's get you up."

She uses her good arm for support, and they ease her up gently. When she's sitting on the edge of the bed, her toes on the floor, Cooper carefully removes her neck brace. She tests herself gingerly, turning her head slowly one way and then the other. Tilting it just a little. There's a frown on her face, like she's not sure how she feels about it.

"You good?" Cooper asks her, and Charlotte nods slowly, taking a breath and looking a little more sure of herself.

"Yeah, it's good," she confirms, and then he is carefully peeling her shoulder brace loose. He's gentle as he can be, but even the smallest movements make her wince slightly. She tries to keep her arm in place as he eases the material away.

And then he realizes they're going to have to get her scrub top over her head without moving her shoulder, and he's not sure quite how they're going to do that.

She must see it on his face, because she tells him, "One arm, over my head, and then the other."

"Right," he murmurs, and slowly but surely, they get her out of it. Her good arm goes through first, some careful maneuvering pulling it out of the sleeve and into her shirt. He gathers the material and guides it up, and over her head, and Cooper says a quiet prayer of thanks for forgiving v-necks. When he starts to slide it down her arm, though, his belly does an anxious flip-flop. Her shoulder is mottled with purple bruises, and there's a raw, angry strip of bruised skin where her seatbelt dug into her.

He hadn't had a chance to see it until now, and he has the overwhelming urge to kiss every painful inch of her better, but he knows it would probably just inflict more pain than relief. Still, he ghosts his fingertips just above her skin, and murmurs, "I'm so glad you walked away from that car relatively unscathed. You scared the crap out of me, Char."

She smiles sympathetically, and lifts her good arm until she can cup her fingers behind his neck and squeeze. "Hey," she soothes. "I'm alright. Just bruised."

He gives her a look. She's more than bruised, and they both know it.

But still, she insists, "I mean it. Shoulder's gonna be a bitch to work around, but other than that..."

Cooper nods, takes a breath, and asks, "How's the ankle?"

Charlotte glances down at her feet, and tells him, "I guess we'll see." Then she looks up with a little grimace and asks, "Can we hustle this? Now that I'm sittin' up, I really have to pee."

Chuckling, he agrees and helps steady her as she stands. She tests her ankle, puts her weight on it, then eases off again, saying, "It's better, but still sore. I'll be alright."

"Good," Cooper says with a smile - and he means it. Still, she's limping just a little as they make their way to the bathroom.

She keeps her injured arm tucked against her torso, but uses the other to pluck against the drawstring of her scrub pants. It unties easily, and she has relatively little trouble shoving the waistband down until her pants and her underwear pool around her feet, so he let's her do it on her own. She doesn't like to be coddled; he knows that.

She steps out of the bundle of fabric at her feet and heads for the toilet, lowering herself carefully. Once Cooper is sure she's not going to overbalance, he turns his attention to getting the shower started and grabbing a clean change of clothes from the bedroom, then a fresh towel from under the bathroom sink, dutifully ignoring her while she does her business.

She does manage to lose her balance as she stands back up, though. Cooper hears the hard shuffle of her foot on the bathroom tile as she steadies herself again, and spins to face her as she curses softly. He's too far to reach her - there's a wide expanse of bathroom between the shower and the toilet. Luckily, she doesn't look like she needs him. "I'm alright," she assures immediately. "Just... down an arm for balance."

Since she's still on her feet, and looks unscathed, he believes her. She flushes the toilet and heads for the sink - his and hers, in a marble countertop that's littered neatly with soap pumps, lotion bottles, and perfume. She pulls the tap on her sink, then scowls.

"What?"

"Just tryin' to figure out how exactly to wash one hand," she tells him, and he chuckles, stepping up next to her and squeezing a pump of honeysuckle soap into his own palm.

He takes her hand between his and rubs the soap over it, telling her, "With help," as their fingers slip and slide in the lather.

"Ah." She smiles. "Knew I got married again for a reason."

He snorts a little and agrees, "Yes, a lifetime commitment just to ensure your hygiene when you've got a bum arm."

"Exactly," she teases back, as he guides their hands under the lukewarm water. "That, and you're great in the sack."

"Damn right, I am," he agrees boastfully, reaching to turn off the tap, but she stops him.

"Wait." She reaches for the cup resting near the sink and fills it, gulping it down so quickly she can't help a breathless sigh when she lowers it again. "Okay."

Cooper pushes the handle back down and peels his t-shirt over his head, then unbuttons his jeans and watches as she walks to the shower stall. She steps inside while he finishes stripping down, and by the time he's joined her, her hair is already good and soaked, little rivulets of water making their way from her shoulders, down her breasts and belly. She's running her good hand through her hair to help saturate it, and he reaches for her, weaving their fingertips and bringing them to his lips before insisting, "Let me."

She hums her agreement and lets her eyes drop shut, and Cooper traces his fingertips along her hairline. "Which shampoo?"

"The two-in-one," she tells him, adding, "It's easier," as he scans the cluster of bottles on the ledge behind her until he finds the right one.

"You have more shampoo..." he mutters teasingly, squeezing a generous dollop into his palm before carefully working it into her hair.

"It's not all shampoo," she excuses. "There's a hair mask, and a moisturizing treatment, and I think my shine serum might be there right now, too..."

"Uh huh," he teases, and if she was looking, he'd point her in the direction of his shelf. "Compare that to mine."

"Not my fault I have better hair than you," she smirks, and then his fingers catch a tangle and she winces.

"Sorry," he murmurs, carefully working it free. "If you have better hair than me, why do you need so many products?"

Even with her eyes closed, he can tell they're rolling at him. "You really gonna choose today of all days to give me a hard time?"

There's a lightness to the way she says it, but it still reminds him once again of what happened to her, of why he's in the shower with her in the first place. His attention slides back to the nasty bruising on her shoulder, and he frowns as he says, "I can't believe you didn't call me right away. Even with my parents here… you should've called."

Now she's frowning too, a hint of apology in her voice as she says, "It wasn't just that… I was more worried about Mason. I knew you'd bring him, and I didn't want him to see me like that."

It's a ridiculous excuse, he thinks. It's not like they could hide this from him. "What, you didn't think he'd see you when you got home?"

"That's not what I meant." He eases her backward slightly, and she takes a small step to maintain her balance, the warm water washing suds away from her hair, down her body. Cooper watches them slide down. "I didn't want him to see me in the hospital, all bruised up from a car accident and insistin' I was fine. He's been there before, Coop, and it ended with his momma tellin' him she had brain cancer and could die."

He hadn't thought of it that way.

"I figured if he didn't know I was hurt until I got home, then he wouldn't have time to worry until I was already here and he could see that I was alright."

"I guess that makes sense," Cooper concedes, reaching for her loofah and choosing a shower gel without consulting her. He lathers up the loofah, and says, "You still could have called _me_."

"If I had, you'd have had to lie to him," Charlotte points out as Cooper soaps her good shoulder, and swipes the sudsy puff down her arm. She opens her eyes and watches him as she says, "And we promised not to do that if we didn't absolutely have to."

"I think we can make exceptions for you being in a car accident."

"We really can't," she sighs. "And besides, I was fine."

He gives her a look.

"I _was_. I am."

"Charlotte." She can't possibly be trying to argue that she's fine and dandy? She's sleep deprived, and bruised, and she's been moving gingerly since he woke her up.

"I'm fine," she insists again. "It's not like I haven't been worse."

That just makes him frown harder. He doesn't want to think about the times she's been hurt worse than this. He doesn't say anything to her this time, just continues to draw the soap across her skin, over her torso, down her legs and back up, in her intimate areas. He squeezes the loofah until his hand is coated in suds, then carefully slides his hand between her injured arm and her torso, doing his best not to force her into moving. And then he helps her rinse, and it's not until then that she says anything else to him. She's been watching him in silence as he washes her, but now she says, "I'm sorry. Maybe I should've called, but… it just didn't seem like the right thing to do at the time."

Cooper nods, and smiles softly at her. "I get it. I mean, I wish you'd called, but… I get it."

She thanks him, and once she's properly rinsed, he reaches around her and shuts off the water. He helps her towel off, then dries himself before helping her dress. Once she's comfortable in her grey sweatsuit and a tank top, her arm safely secured in the shoulder brace, he kisses her softly, slowly, then heads back downstairs to his son and his parents, and lets her finish getting ready for the day on her own.


	12. Chapter 12

When Charlotte finally descends to the kitchen, Cooper's parents are still sitting at the table, sipping their coffee. She can see Mason and Cooper on the pool deck through the kitchen's sliding doors, and she can tell by their faces that they're not having the most pleasant of conversations, but she can't hear anything.

Figuring Cooper can handle whatever tiff the two of them are having, Charlotte smiles pleasantly at her in-laws, tells them, "good morning," and heads for the fridge.

Her mother-in-law offers only a short hum of acknowledgement. Her father-in-law asks, a little too politely, how she's feeling.

Charlotte chooses to act like everything is a hell of a lot more cordial than it is, and answers pleasantly, "Sore. But I'll recover. How was your flight?"

She grabs a blueberry yogurt from the fridge as his mother answers, "Long," and plucks a spoon from the silverware drawer as his father elaborates, "There was a crying baby in the first row of coach."

Charlotte winces in sympathy as she makes her way to the table. She sets her breakfast down and eases herself into a chair as she muses, "Takes a little of the shine of that first class upgrade, huh?"

As his mother answers, "To say the least," the conversation on the other side of the patio door grows more heated.

"Because I don't want to!" Mason hollers, and Charlotte stiffens a little and glances to the side.

"Wonder what that's about…" she murmurs. She doesn't have to wait long for an answer.

"He doesn't want to go to Disneyland," Cooper's father supplies. "Cooper is trying to change his mind."

Charlotte frowns at that. Disney was about the only part of this weekend Mason had shown any excitement for. "That doesn't sound like Mason. He's been lookin' forward to Disney for weeks…"

"He wants to stay with you," he tells her, and suddenly it all makes sense. "Cooper keeps telling him you'll be fine on your own, but he doesn't want to go without you."

Charlotte nods, carefully, and explains, "He's skittish." She grips the tab of her yogurt lid with her good hand and gives it a pull, but she's doing it one-handed, and it doesn't give. "Erica didn't want him to know she was sick, so she waited to tell him about the cancer. Even when she was startin' to show symptoms, she kept tellin' him everything was fine. That she was going to be okay. Got him all the way to Seattle on an airplane before we told him what was really goin' on." She tries to angle her hand to get some leverage, but the foil stays put, the carton sliding a few centimeters over the tabletop. "So now he's always worried we're lyin' to him - even when we're telling him the truth."

Cooper's dad finally puts her out of her misery, reaching over and easily tearing the foil away, before handing the yogurt back. She offers him a sincere thank you, then dips her spoon in and takes a small bite.

"What can you do to help him with that?" Cooper's mother asks, and Charlotte pauses with the spoon in her mouth, then draws it out slowly, mulls the sweet-tart flavor of the yogurt over her tongue as she considers her answer. She's not wild about the tone - or the implication that she's not doing enough to help Mason, when she's been bending over backward trying to give him some sense of security and normalcy in the weeks since Erica's passing.

She swallows, finally, and tells her mother-in-law, "Tell him the truth. Always. And we do that. We do that, and we make sure he knows he's safe, and secure, and loved, and we give him the time to go through what he's goin' through. It's the best we can do for him right now."

"You should talk to Violet-"

"We have," Charlotte cuts her off, fighting to keep the irritation out of her voice. "We do. We ask for help when we need it, Judy, and Mason's not bein' ignored, or disgregarded, or left hangin' out to dry while Cooper and I go on with our business. But he's been through trauma, and recoverin' from that is a process. He's allowed to be anxious. He's allowed to feel the way he feels right now. It's part of the process."

"I think that makes sense," Cooper's dad agrees, and Charlotte just blinks.

Well, that's new.

"Thank you," she tells him, still a little thrown, but she doesn't have any more time to question it, because Mason comes stomping his way in through the sliding door, Cooper calling after him.

Mason sees her and stops short, looking at her like she's somehow unexpected. "You're up," he says, as his dad walks into the kitchen as well, sliding the door closed behind him.

Charlotte smirks at Mason, and nods carefully. "I am. You knew that."

He takes a few steps closer, closes the distance between them and says, "Your neck is better."

Ah. That's the difference. She's no longer encumbered by the neck brace, she's back in her own clothes. She's herself again, and he's a little thrown by that. "It is," she confirms. "It's a little sore, but a lot of me is a little sore."

He frowns at that. "But you're okay?"

"I am just fine," she promises, beckoning him around to the other side of her chair, so she can take his hand with her good one.

She weaves their fingers, and gives his arm a lazy swing, as he smiles at her and says, "You look good."

Charlotte laughs a little and tells him thank you, then adds, "I hear you don't want to go to Disneyland."

"I do," he tells her. "Just not without you. But you're better now, so you can go, right?"

"No, sweetie, I can't." She gives his fingers a little squeeze. "I'm better than last night, but I'm not all healed up yet. I'm in no shape for running around an amusement park all day."

His face falls, mouth twisting into a scowl. "Oh."

"But you can still go. You shouldn't miss out on all the rides, and the food, and all that just because I can't go."

But Mason is determined - he shakes his head again, and declares, "No. It won't be any fun without you."

Charlotte gives him a knowing half-smile. "Now that's not true," she says. "If I go, I'll just be tellin' ya not to eat so many churros, and cool it on the teacups before you puke, and that three new t-shirts are enough. You'll have a lot more fun with your daddy and your grandparents. They'll spoil you rotten."

"I don't care," he insists, "I want to be here, with you. What if you need me?"

"For what?" she challenges, though it's not without affection. The fact that he's so bound and determined to take care of her is pretty cute.

"I don't know. For anything. To help you with stuff." And then he gives her that look - that wounded soul look he gets when he's particularly affected by something. "Charlotte, please don't make me go."

She hates that look. It breaks her heart every time, makes her want to scoop him up and take all his pain, and anxiety, and worry away. Let him breathe easy for a bit. She glances helplessly to Cooper, and he sighs and gives her a slight nod.

Charlotte lets out a breath, and nods herself. "Alright," she concedes. "We can stay home today." Mason's shoulders go lax, and he smiles, all the tense energy bleeding out of him for a moment. "Maybe tomorrow you'll feel like goin', hmm?"

Mason shrugs, and just keeps on smiling. Then he seems to startle slightly, and frowns down at himself. "I can't wear this," he says, and Charlotte looks at him funny.

"Why not?" She reaches down and tugs playfully at the hem. "It's one of your favorites, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but Phineas and Ferb was for Disney. I have to save it 'til we go."

"Well, then you'd better go get changed," she encourages, and he's off - headed for his bedroom and a t-shirt that's not so on theme.

Once he's out of the room, Charlotte looks apologetically to Cooper. "I'm sorry. I tried."

"I know," he sighs, walking toward her and plopping himself into the chair next to her. "Maybe you're right - maybe tomorrow."

"I don't see what difference a day will make," his mother says frostily. "Charlotte won't be well enough to go tomorrow, and now you've gotten his hopes up. You'll be having the same conversation in the morning."

"Mom…" Cooper starts, but he seems to not know where to go from there, because he just sighs a little, and shakes his head.

"Or…" Charlotte begins carefully, doing her best not to let her hackles rise, or draw her mouth into the scowl that's just begging to form on her lips, "He'll spend a day with me, see that I'm alright and perfectly capable of being home alone, and he'll feel a lot better about goin' tomorrow."

"Yes," Cooper gleans on, nodding. "Yes. Thank you. That. That is what we're hoping will happen."

Charlotte gives him a look somewhere between amusement and disbelief. Way to piggyback on her comeback there, but she's pretty sure he would've gotten there eventually if she'd given him the time, so she chooses not to rib him for it.

"We can only hope," his father replies, without a hint of sarcasm or ill will, and Charlotte notices yet again that he seems to be trying to be friendly to her. It's odd, but not unwelcome.

Cooper pulls her from that train of thought, nodding toward her yogurt and asking, "You want something more than that? If we're staying here, I might as well make breakfast."

She smiles at him, nods, and tells him, "Sure," and he rises from his seat, and presses a kiss to her forehead before heading to raid the fridge.


	13. Chapter 13

Cooper has a lot of skills. He's a good doctor, a loving husband, an excellent dad - at least, he hopes he is, not too shabby on a basketball court, pretty good at crossword puzzles, okay at third grade math, and really good in the kitchen. It's that last one he puts to the test this morning, whipping up a big breakfast for all of them - more than is necessary, probably, but if they're going to be spending the day at home, he wants to make sure it's still special somehow. So he makes eggs over easy, and egg and green pepper scrambles, bacon, and bagels, and two kinds of pancakes (blueberry and peanut-butter-banana, a Sunday morning favorite in their house).

Within an hour, they're all fat and happy, and past any awkwardness the cancellation of the day's plans had caused. His mother is doing her best Jekyll-and-Hyde, being the warm, friendly grandmother to Mason, and the cool disapproving mother-in-law with Charlotte. By the end of brunch, he notices that they seem to have entered into some kind of silent agreement - Charlotte and his mother only speak to each other whenever absolutely necessary. His dad seems to be holding to his declaration from last night - he's kind and cordial to Charlotte, and in return, she's friendly with him, growing increasingly at ease. Cooper decides he'll take what he can get - if she wins over his dad, maybe his dad can help win over his mom.

Mason is helping Cooper clear the table when he gets a little careless. He's distracted by trying to charm the crap out of his grandma, telling her that of course he'll bring her another cup of coffee and not looking where he's going when he manages to bump the plate he's carrying against Charlotte's injured shoulder.

She winces, and hisses, and asks through grit teeth if he can please be more careful. Mason goes white and apologizes, profusely. Charlotte cuts him off. "It's alright, Mase, just look where you're goin' with that thing next time. My shoulder's still pretty bruised; we need to be careful with it."

She manages a smile for him, and Mason seems to relax a little at that.

And then, in true little boy fashion, he asks if he can see the bruises.

"Sure," she agrees gamely, reaching across and gingerly tugging at the open collar of her hoodie. She draws it to the side, and Cooper watches Mason wince sympathetically. It doesn't escape Cooper's notice that his father makes the same troubled face as his son - or that his mother is busy smoothing and folding her napkin.

Mason's response to the mottled purple of Charlotte's shoulder is a simple one: "Ouch."

"Yeah," she agrees, letting the fabric fall back into place. "Big ouch."

"But you're okay?" he asks, and Cooper wonders if they'll ever reach a point where Mason doesn't need to be reassured a hundred times that the people he loves aren't lying to him or about to be taken away.

Charlotte is unfazed by the questioning, though, and answers with a simple, "Mmhmm."

"You promise."

"I promise," she confirms. "Just bruised. Bruises heal."

"And I didn't hurt you too bad?"

"Badly," she corrects his grammar almost absently. "And no, you didn't. I'm alright." Mason nods, seemingly satisfied, and then Charlotte adds, "But... I could use a refill on my OJ if you're bringin' drinks."

She winks at him, and smiles, and Mason grins at her and nods again, telling her "Okay," and carrying the empty plates to the sink. He lets them fall in with a clatter, and Cooper doesn't have to look at Charlotte to know she's wincing.

"Hey, Rambo," she calls after him, and Cooper smirks. "You wanna try a little harder not to break my dishes?"

Mason draws out his, "Sorry," with an almost audible eye roll. Neither one of them seems truly put out by any of it.

"So," Cooper's mother starts in. "How are we going to spend this lovely day, now that we're not going to the theme park?"

Charlotte turns her head slightly, beckoning silently for Cooper's input. As much as she claims her neck is fine, she's noticeably babying it - not giving it a full turn to look at him as he approaches to round up his parents' coffee mugs for refills. He wonders if she's hurting more than she lets on, and makes a mental note to badger her about it later.

But for now, he's rescuing her from his mother - or helping her keep up this rule of silence, he's not really sure. "Well, there's plenty we can do here," he says, hooking the mug handles around his fingers and lifting them easily. He carries them back to the counter and refills them as he lists all their options. "We have a whole closet full of board games if we want to do that, and the WiiFit is surprisingly entertaining. I'd suggest MarioKart if you want to hear Charlotte curse a blue streak," he teases, earning a _hey!_ of protest from his wife, and a laugh from Mason. "But, sadly, she can't play one-handed."

"Oh, let's not stay cooped up on such a nice day," his mother protests with a smile. "We should head outside, and get some fresh air."

Mason has busied himself refilling Charlotte's juice glass, so Cooper carries both his parents' mugs back to the table.

"We can move to the back yard," Cooper suggests, taking the chair next to Charlotte. "There's tables and chairs out there, and we have bocce, and a football in the garage. We could go crazy and try to set up the volleyball net. And there's always the pool. It's definitely warm enough outside."

"Can Charlotte go in the pool?" Mason asks, sliding her juice onto the table with a little flourish and _ta-da_.

Charlotte laughs at him, and reaches for it, answering, "I can sit on the edge, at the very least. Probably shouldn't get this guy wet," she tells him, gesturing to her brace, then sipping her juice.

Mason's mouth works its way into a scowl. "So, no pool volleyball?"

"Definitely not," she chuckles. "Not for me, anyway. You and your daddy and your grandparents can play, though. You'd even have even teams for once."

"Nah," he shrugs. "It's only good when you and I are creaming Dad."

"Hey!" Cooper protests, and Charlotte and Mason turn twin grins on him. His offense is short-lived - it always is when the two of them gang up on him like this. He's just too tickled by the fact that he has both of them - that he has this great family, this amazing son and fantastic wife, who love each other, who love to team up and pick on him... He loves it so much, he can't get mad over it. Not yet, anyway.

"What?" Charlotte smirks. "It's true."

"Yeah, well..." Cooper's got nothing. "I bet I'd win with even teams."

"I don't know about the rest of you," Cooper's dad announces, "But I need some time to let that big breakfast settle."

"I hear that," Charlotte agrees, her good hand dropping her to belly. "I'm stuffed."

"Well, maybe Cooper and I can work on trying to get that volleyball net set up," his mother suggests, stopping to clarify, "The one for the yard, not the pool. I'm sure Mason can help us, and then the two of you," she glances between his dad and Charlotte, "Can take your time digesting."

"Sounds good to me." Cooper glances at his son. "Mason?"

"Sure. But..." He looks to Charlotte again, asking, "What'll you do while we all play?"

"I will park myself in one of those comfy chaise chairs, and probably look at new cars on the Internet. Mine's too busted to fix."

"Aw, man," Mason sighs. "I liked your car. It was cool."

"Hey," Cooper interjects. "My car's not cool enough for you?"

Mason shrugs, and tells him, "It's okay."

Charlotte leans toward their son, and lowers her voice to mock-whisper, "It's alright. I only ever get cool cars."

As they snicker together, Cooper asks, "Do you want me to go get your laptop?"

Before Charlotte even gets a chance to answer, Mason pipes up and offers, "I can go get it!" He looks to Charlotte, and insists, "You should rest."

Charlotte gives Cooper an amused glance, then tells Mason, "I'd appreciate that; thank you."

"Is it in your bag?" he asks, and Charlotte frowns.

"I don't know, actually. It was in the car - Amelia should've brought it in last night." She looks to Cooper. "Do you know where she put my stuff?"

"It's up in the office, on your desk."

"I'll be right back," Mason tells her with an encouraging smile, and Charlotte chuckles after him.

"He's killin' me today," she mutters, and Cooper can't help but agree.

"He's worried about you."

"He's settlin' down. Now, he's just dotin' on me."

"Because he's worried about you," Cooper repeats, and his mother lets out a heavy sigh.

"Do you really think encouraging this kind of behavior is wise, Cooper?"

Cooper feels his patience thin astronomically in just a few seconds. "What behavior, mom? Helping his stepmom when she's hurt? Being kind? Lending a hand? What exactly is he doing that's so unacceptable to you?"

She bristles, straightening in her chair and cupping her palms around the mug in front of her. "There's no need to snap at me. Honestly, Cooper."

"Y'know what, there is-" he starts in, keeping his words at a low whisper to ensure that Mason doesn't pick up any of this conversation. He's intent on calling out this stupid game she and Charlotte are playing, intent on telling her that if his dad can give Charlotte a second chance, there's no reason she can't, too, but he never gets the chance.

Charlotte cuts him off with a quiet, "Cooper," a minute shake of her head and a, "Let it go."

He drops his voice even further, hissing to his wife, "No, I'm not just going to let it go; it's not fair."

"So, what kind of car are you looking for?" It's Cooper's father, trying to diffuse the tension. He's looking at Charlotte and she smiles gratefully.

"I don't know," she admits. "I guess we'll see what I come across."

His mother is still scowling disapprovingly at him, but Cooper reluctantly decides to let this one go after all, if for no other reason than that Mason will be back soon, and he doesn't have time anymore to really get into this. So he switches his attention to his wife, and his dad, and the less dangerous topic of new cars.

"Why even bother looking?" Cooper teases. "Mercedes. Red. Sporty. Impractically small. Same as the last car you had, and the one before that."

But Charlotte shakes her head slightly. "Mm-mm. Not this time. I'm gettin' somethin' bigger."

"Bigger?" Cooper asks her, brows rising incredulously. "What, like an SUV? You gonna get a mom car, Charlotte?" He needles her, giving a shit-eater grin, but she's not smiling back.

"No, just something with a back seat." She looks at him seriously, and mutters, "Coop, if Mason had been in that car..."

He sobers at that, too, remembering the way the front corner of her car had crumpled, an unbidden image flashing into his mind - his son getting tossed around that passenger seat like a rag doll, the force of an airbag on his too-small body, what he'd look like with Charlotte's bruises. He doesn't want to imagine it - can't - it makes his stomach lurch and twist. He looks at her again, and asks with only a little bit of humor, "You sure you don't want that SUV?"

Her smile is sympathetic, and kind, but he's unsurprised when she shakes her head. "No SUVs for me, thank you. But a nice sedan, _that_ I can handle."

Mason strolls back in with the laptop tucked under his arm. He's oblivious to the tension lingering in the room as he asks, "Are we going out back?"

"We certainly are," Charlotte confirms. "You wanna carry that out for me?"

"Yep," he agrees, and out he goes without another word.

It takes Charlotte a minute longer to get moving - she's still slowed by the inconvenience of her injuries - but in the time it takes Mason to set the laptop on the patio table, open it and boot it up, they've all migrated from the kitchen to the fresh morning air outside. While Charlotte and his dad settle into the cushy deck chairs surrounding the table, Cooper loops an arm around Mason's shoulders and leads the way to the back door of the garage.

They have a volleyball net to raise.


End file.
